The Garden of Eden
by Ripsi
Summary: Claire is seeing Wesker in a new light, reality is unraveling, people are not who we thought they were, and now the difference between right and wrong are unclear. ClaireWesker LOOK FOR THE SEQUENCE UNDER THE M RATING!
1. Peace, or in Pieces?

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic.

1999

Life after Rockfort was like, life after hell. You keep wondering where and when your nightmares would pop up. Claire Redfield was an innocent subjected to the horrors of earth's hell: Umbrella. Now, she lived her life in fear, waiting and watching for any signs as to when her past would catch up to her; when Umbrella would catch up to her. The dull scenery flew by as she stared out the window from the back seat of the black SUV.

"Claire?" "What?" Chris glanced back at her and asked, "Did you hear a word I said?" "Not really." "Forget it." With that, he went back to flirting with Jill, who sat in the passenger's seat, smiling at his cheesy jokes. "Oh my God Chris, just ask me out," she thought impatiently.

Claire groaned out as Chris tried to hide the fact that he liked Jill, but he was as transparent as negligee in his case, ignorance wasn't bliss. Everyone knew that women knew when a guy liked them. The red head smiled as her brunette friend laid his head on her shoulder. Thanks to him she was saved from that freaky Ashford family, and all it took was an email. Leon Scott Kennedy was a great friend, or was he more?

Strong, handsome, and caring, he was everything. Because of him, Claire had survived the weirdest scenario of zombies and incestuous siblings. The red head felt the brunette grab her hand, causing her to blush, this didn't go unnoticed by Chris. Leon saw him glaring at him from the rearview mirror, causing him to instantly revert to the other side of the car. Despite how Leon saved Claire's life, Chris still didn't want him near her. There was something strange about Kennedy, something he'd missed, Jill's attitude towards him only fueled Chris' suspicion.

Suddenly Jill was frantic, "Chris watch out!" Just in time, Chris looked back to the road to see another car coming straight at them. In an effort to keep from crashing, he swerved off the road and hit the brakes, the car rocked slightly but settled. Claire held onto the back of the seat with shaking hands, but Chris tried to remain calm, while Jill, on the other hand, sat stiffly in her seat holding onto the sides of the chair. Leon held his head and groaned out, but Chris only asked, "Is everybody alright?" He received no answer no answer but it was clear that everyone was ticked.

"Nice start to our vacation bro!" Claire's words stung, he was trying at least. Chris had planned a little relax time in the mountains but they heading to THE cabin. "If we rented out the only cabin up there, why was someone coming down?"

Claire asked herself this over and over. Perhaps it was some teens who had gotten turned around. Yeah, that was it. Figuring it was time to get rid of this paranoia, Claire sighed and said gently, "Chris, it's alright, let's just get to the cabin." After a silent ride they made it to the top and Chris' remained on the road.

Claire wasn't the only one asking who that was, but Chris wasn't going to ruin the rest of the trip with worry and staying up all night. Umbrella was shut down and Wesker never popped up unless Chris involved himself with the pharmaceutical company. According to Wesker, he'd, "Sold himself to a new organization," anyway. "Chris?" Jill brought him back from his thoughts of their ex-boss. Smiling at her he got out of the car and watched a smiling Claire take her things into the cabin, then, a grinning Leon.

This put a scowl on Chris' face, until Jill walked around the car to him. "Chris, relax." "Jill, why'd he have to come?" Putting a hand on her hip, she replied with a question, "Because if it weren't for him Claire would be in teeny weeny bits?" The brunette gave a sigh of defeat, making Jill feel bad.

Chris didn't like loosing an argument, but what else could Jill say? They owed Kennedy a lot, even if they hated admitting it.

In the Cabin

"There are only three bedrooms," said a blushing Claire, knowing that Leon would be subjected to the couch anyway. "I'm ok with the couch," he assured her, taking her hand into his own. Leon was like a rock to her, insuring that the past was the past and the only thing remaining of it was him. But Leon had his demons, and one in particular: the fiery Asian: Ada. That demon was long gone and now all that remained of her was a faint memory that would creep up and resurface in his mind.

What did he see in her? It had to have been the mystery or perhaps how it was forbidden. She was nothing special, but the demeanor, the attitude, and the fact she was indeed a spy could turn on any man. She was dangerous, and on the wrong side. After thinking about Ada, Leon couldn't look at Claire.

"Excuse me." Sad, blue eyes watched him march out, and she knew what was wrong. It seemed that even beyond the grave that the villains got their way. Just then Claire's cell phone rang, and she was grateful for the distraction. Ignoring the fact that she shouldn't even be getting service, she answered.

"Hello?" "…" "Hello?" "…" Click. Deciding not to look to much into it, she hung up, assuming it was a wrong number. Or was it?

"Calm down Claire." The night was quiet, except for a constant ticking. Chris found the source of the problem, a clock someone had left behind. Claire and the others sat around the coffee table in the den staring at it, but only because Chris wasn't doing so. "It's a clock Chris," Claire said exasperated.

"I know. Look, it's almost 12 o'clock, go to bed." Just as they stood to their feet, the ticking became more rapid and Chris' eyes grew wide. "Everybody out!"


	2. Waking Up

A/N: Well, I have been feeling down so this chapter might suck. I appreciate the feedback and thanks. It's just been rainy, depressing, and gloomy down here lately. Well, enjoy and R&R.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE but this is my fic. Wouldn't it be a nice Christmas present to own RE though?

Fire. It blazed and burnt the remnants of the cabin, smoke reached up to the sky, mimicking Chris. "Chris!" Jill limped over to her fallen comrade, smiling a bit at his luck. Instead of saying her name though he called out for his sister, naturally. "Claire, is she alright?"

Making a quick scan across the dirt she found nothing, except Leon, who was staggering over to them. "Where's Claire?" Gathering his strength, Chris sat up and looked around. "I know she got out. She was right in front of me." As usual he felt hopeful for his sister, his mind never allowed him to think the worst of his baby sister, which in some cases was good, but in others it was bad.

Jill's face was filled with sadness, but she had to be strong for Chris. In an attempt to comfort him she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Who could have done this Chris?" Nothing had to be said, it didn't take a rocket scientist. This was payback from Umbrella, or worse: Wesker.

Ever since escaping the cabin, Claire had been half running half limping through the trees. She could her predator behind her, walking calmly. He was in no hurry for she was injured and defenseless. He also had the tree limbs on his side it seemed, Claire tried so hard to push herself to go faster, but the forest was against her escaping. As she felt something sharp puncture the skin on her neck she immediately fell to ground and could do nothing but fight unconsciousness as she heard boots crunching limbs and leaves underneath them.

"Ow, my head," Claire mumbled, but she quieted, remembering what had just happened. She looked around, finding she was in a dull, gray basement. She lay on a cot in the right corner of the room, and across from her was a desk with a computer on it. The rest of the room was bare, except for the boxes lining the wall on the other side of the room. All she could her were two men up the wooden steps arguing about… her!

"You idiot!" Hey, hey! You said bring you Redfield, YOU failed to mention which one." "Take your damn money and go!" As one of the men started down the stairs, Claire backed into the corner afraid of who it would be. "No," she thought to herself, but her silent wishes went unheard, there he was.

"Well, don't you look happy to see me Miss Redfield." "Wesker." How popular his name must have been, seeing as everyone who laid eyes upon him was struck with fear and could only utter his name. Grinning at her hatred and fear, he walked towards her, seeming so tall. Of course his confidence made him intimidating.

You'd have to be a nut not to fear him, Claire herself had personally felt his wrath, and only because she had defended her brother's actions. "This just might work," he said to himself thoughtfully. "What are you talking about?" Without another word he went over to the computer and sat in the chair in front of it. "Answer me," she demanded boldly.

All she knew was he needed her for something, and it involved something Chris had. "I might as well tell you," he said suddenly. "Your 'dear' brother has something I want- no, NEED. You see, when he decided to reveal Umbrella's secrets, he took something with him. He won't just give it up, but for you? He'd do anything. Talk about killing two birds with one stone: I get what I need and I finally get to kill your brother." In an attempt to show no fear she mistook stupidity for bravery by saying, "Chris is going to kick your ass!" Suddenly, Claire was in the air, flailing her legs helplessly while Wesker held her up with one hand.

She had been in this position before: helpless. "You shut your mouth," he hissed before dropping back on the cot. "Your brother is a weak mortal, and so are you." "Congratulations," she thought, "You've already managed to piss him off." Coughing, she held her neck and watched him sit back in the chair and turned to the computer.

For about an hour, she listened to the silent clicking on the keyboard. It was murder to be sitting in a room with a bastard like him, unable to do anything. She couldn't run, it'd just be more hurtful to her, and being chained to a wall wasn't exactly what she wanted to happed next. All she could do was stare at the back of his head, but he noticed. "May I help you Miss Redfield?"

Not wanting to speak to him, she turned away and sat staring at the cement wall. After awhile it became boring and she laid her head down on the pillow and even though she tried to fight the oncoming sleep, she drifted off, and the only good thing about it was there was no Wesker.

Waking up was Claire's torture, because she knew it wasn't a dream. She was really there, with Wesker still clicking away at the keyboard. -He's still going at it. Well I'll just pretend I'm sleep.- "I see you're awake dear heart." She growled silently to herself and decided to sit up since it was no point to pretending she was sleep.

It was unbearable: Him being there was enough, but not knowing what was going through his twisted mind scared her more than anything. All she could do was pray that his cold calculating face didn't settle on her. The man, or thing was troubled, despite his denial of trauma and boasts of his perfection. Did she really wish to dig deeper into his mind? Maybe he was hurt as a child, or maybe he witnessed something horrendous.

Of course, whatever reason he presented gave no justification whatsoever to his behavior. Truth was that he always concentrated on the task at hand, and instead of thinking about then, he thought about the now. Claire though, stayed hung up on the then. What did Chris have though? What could Wesker possibly need so bad?

It was something that he'd just realized he needed over a few months. Taking a deep breath, she finally asked, "What is it that Chris has?" After torturous minutes of silence he turned to her. "You'll know sooner or later. So… I'll tell you."

Well, hope you liked it, R&R please.


	3. Like the Rain

A/N: I would like to thank you all that have reviewed and I'm just so giddy that I'm actually on someone's favorites list. Thanks Melancholy Maiden for making me so happy! Right now this fic is all I have of RE, some idiots broke into our house about two months ago and RE and game systems were their target. We got the systems back, but I really miss RE 4 and RECVX. At least we got the other games though. Love all of ya'll!

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic.

Rain patted against the window incessantly, and Chris just refused to look away. Why couldn't his life be like rain? Just keep on going uninterrupted. Why was his life so complicated? Why couldn't he keep his sister and his loved ones safe?

Maybe he wasn't good enough. Maybe he was just worthless and couldn't save his sister. Jill wouldn't even date him, even after all they'd been through. Once again he'd failed his sister, himself. The rain always came and saved the world from drought and thirst.

Finally, he looked away from the window and saw that Jill had fallen asleep on the computer desk. "Jill," he thought glumly. She'd never go out with a man who couldn't save his family. She was so beautiful, so brave. Despite her past, she was still the greatest cop she knew.

Before now, he had another person that held that title: Captain Albert Wesker. That man didn't believe in failure, he was a true leader. He'd have followed that man to the edge of the world. Never in his life did Chris imagine that such circumstances would come to be. Sadly, when and if the time came, he'd have to put his captain down, that is, if he could.

"Your brother has the disk containing the information to duplicate the T- Veronica virus." That's what Wesker told Claire a few hours ago. He'd left her in that basement, alone, knowing that he'd succeed. "If I don't let Chris find me then Wesker can't get the information," she realized. But could she really do that?

Could she sacrifice herself just so that there could never be another Raccoon City? -I have to. I have to sabotage every chance Wesker gets to get his hands on that disk.- He'd be contacting Chris soon, no doubt. How could she stop that disk from getting to Wesker? Maybe Chris would give him a fake, hopefully. The sound of boots on the wooden stairs brought her back from her thoughts. In a second, her expression went from calculating to that of an afraid little girl. Instead of seeing Wesker as a villain, she saw a food tray in his hands. He cared that she was hungry?

Well, she was worth more alive than dead. She watched as gently placed a tray on the bed. It looked like a regular dinner, hopefully minus poison. "Well, eat. I can't get anything if you're dead," he commanded. Slowly, he walked away, not looking back, even as he went back up the stairs.

Claire didn't begin eating until she heard the door close. Right now though, she craved company. She feared getting on the computer, not wanting to upset him. That man had a temper; constantly angry, never at peace. Once again she found herself trying to get into his head. -I could never see him as good, not after all he'd done. Chris, where are you?-

Chris' eyes opened sleepily, and the first thing he saw was Jill. Her chest heaved up and down as she breathed deeply. Was she dreaming? If so, was she dreaming of him? Still, Chris could hear the rain.

Why was Jill so calm- no. He shouldn't have made such an assumption though. She was suffering just as much. Only now had Chris thought about Leon though. Even though he didn't trust the guy, he knew he was worried for Claire.

He was nice enough to let them stay at his home, but still, Chris couldn't shake that feeling. But until they got in contact with Barry he was the help they had. If they were going against Wesker, there was an open slot for everyone who wanted help. -I know what Wesker wants too.- Of course, Chris' solution was easy.

All there was to do, was to find a blank disk, but it was expected. Chris couldn't even open the file, it had some kind of security inscription. They needed Rebecca for that, but where was Rebecca? -It's time to get serious about this and get together everyone we know.-

Before he knew it, he was on Leon's phone, calling up Barry. No answer. That was strange; nowadays he always picked up, fearing signs he might miss. More than ever he feared for his family. -I'll email Rebecca and pray she still has an account.-

For some time now, Leon listened to Chris mumbling ideas to himself. -I want Claire back too, but why try? If I save her… I'll lose her.- The ringing of his cell phone brought him back from his thoughts. Not needing to look at the number, he answered. Before speaking he closed his door, knowing exactly what kind of conversation would be had.

"Hello." "Are they there?" "Yes." "Make sure they don't get it." "Yes, whatever you say."

He hung up, but what was he supposed to feel? Bad? -As long as I keep Claire, I'll be fine.- Just like the rain he was helping, but also, just like the rain, he was about to destroy the solidity of the world.

That's all for now! R&R!


	4. Honesty

A/N: I would like to thank everyone for the reviews, and this chapter shows Wesker as a little unstable and out of character, but I just really wanted to imagine him as out of control and try to clarify his reasons to be an insane bastard. So if this chapter sucks it's 'cause my parents are at it at this stressful moment of house searching, my stupid correspondence class instructor doesn't think I really wrote that AIDS report and she gave me a C, I have depression, a little brother, and a boyfriend, so you do the math. On to the chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own the fic, yeah, it's my work…

If death was her fate Claire at least wanted to know why. After getting the disk there was no way Wesker would let her live. Not in a million years. Deciding to take a chance she interrupted her captor from his typing again.

"Wesker?" Sadly she couldn't keep herself from sounding shaky.

Abruptly, he stopped typing and turned to her, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"Well, if Chris brings you the disk, will you kill us?" The awkward moment of silence returned to the room, and now more than anything Claire feared his obvious answer.

"I will kill Chris. You? You have done nothing to me." Then she had to open her mouth in defense of her brother. By now Wesker had expected to know not to dispute him.

"But neither has Chris," she protested. Now he was furious. Furious that she dared to deny to him what was true. Anger got the best of the man that always presented a cool and composed exterior, except when Chris was the subject.

Unable to control himself, the demon Claire had faced on Rockfort had returned. "Chris… Has destroyed everything I'd strived for! And you sit there and defend that little worm. Everything I did, I did for the good of the world!" Was he actually trying to do right? Or maybe it was right by his standards. Claire was NOT going to let him justify his actions, no matter how insane he was.

"You are a lying son of a bitch! Nothing you do is good or just!" Another awkward silence filled the room, of course, moments with villains -especially Wesker- were always so. Slowly Wesker stood up and made his way to Claire. Blinded by her stupidity, she didn't even realize he'd slapped her across the face. -Why did I say that?-

Was it bravery, or stupidity? Not even feeling the impact of the slap she looked up to him, and for once, saw some sort of emotion: shock. Still, she wanted to know what he believed in, and what happened to give him that mentality.

"Do you really believe what you want is good?"

There was no condescending tone in his voice, no hatred for her, and the rage disappeared. "Order is the only way for the world to be alright."

"Something happened to you, when you were young." Claire wasn't asking, she was telling him that she knew what it was. In an attempt to salvage his reputation, he turned away from her but Claire could see why. "I'm right aren't I? Something happened?"

"There are things that I even feared." Feared: past tense. Meaning that it was all over. But Claire, wanted- no needed to know what happened. If she could get close to him -no matter how disgusting it sounded- maybe she could manipulate him.

All she said was, "Was it your family?" That was all it took. Claire was against the wall, once again with Wesker's hand around her throat. His was tense, enraged, and just a straw away from breaking her neck.

"You shut the hell up! You don't know a damn thing about me!"

With enough determination, she managed to choke out, "I want to know!" Silence once again fell upon the room, all the rage drained from Wesker's eyes at hearing her confession of concern, and he let go. Slowly, she slid down the wall gasping for air, and holding her now sore throat.

Wesker's voice made her look up, "Do you know what it's like to be assaulted by your father? Having to watch your siblings, be striped and… Touched by your father, and then sit wondering when your turn was? To be crying at night, but your mother was too hung over to deal with you? To pray every night, that God would be gracious enough, to make daddy finally use his pistol… And plant a bullet in your brain?"

"Yes…" Wesker didn't know that Chris and Claire were from foster home, to foster home, to foster home. Choking back tears, the redhead stood up shakily, and stated, "I know how it feels. And all Chris and I had were each other." For once, he looked at her like she was human, like she was an equal.

Turning away, he said to her, "I just want what my family never had: order." It was all so clear now, his life was chaos and a mess. Order may have meant bloodshed but there was no love without war. Just to keep him from leaving, she started with him again.

"But if you want order so bad why did you lie? Lies just complicate things."

"I never lied. They never asked me if I was working for Umbrella, never asked me my true intentions." He was right., they never asked. This was unbelievable: she agreed that he didn't lie. This of course depended on the person and their principles. Wesker believed in a "don't-ask-don't-tell-world," whereas Chris believed that omission were betrayal.

This of course wasn't about Chris, but her captor. For once she understood him, and knew what had driven him to do such things.

"Even so, this isn't right," she pleaded. His voice was cold as ice when he gave his final response.

"Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind." This was true, and despite her first perception of this man, or whatever he was, he was really trying to be honest.

A/N: Whooooooooooooo! I might update today, if I feel up to it because I already got the next chapter written out. Así, adios y gracias para la repuesta. R&R!


	5. To Have Someone

A/N: Another chapter! Oh yeah! I know ya'll love me! Oh… I'm calm. I'm just so happy and I love somebody so that helps a lot! Well, I hope ya'll enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE but this work is mine. I'm so proud.

Those eyes. They were filled with such emotion, such kindness, and it was all for her. "Steve… Where have you been?" Placing an index finger on the young girl's finger, he shushed her softly.

"I have to go Claire, she's coming. I know how much she meant to you; you need to be ready." This was a strange dream. Who was he talking about? Who was this "she"? Then there came darkness and the feeling to wake up. What did Steve want?

No, he was dead, and it was just a dream. It all seemed so meaningful, just so real to her. The second she saw her eyes she saw the ever-present chair and computer, but no Wesker. She needed clothes, a shower, and most of all she needed her brother. Where was the man that always came to her rescue?

Soon Wesker would come down the stairs with a tray of food again, commanding that she eat it. It was horrible to know that if he didn't need her alive he'd starve her. Or would he? Was he really even like that? Just now though, she realized that she hadn't even tried to figure out where he was. An Umbrella lab was the most probable place, but he was a strange man.

She hadn't even cried during her stay, not considering the possibility that Leon or Jill could be dead. No. Wesker wanted them all to feel pain, although Jill's feelings towards Claire were unclear. It seemed so weird that the woman was so in love with Claire's brother, but didn't even know that Claire was alive. There was such little interaction between them, but this never bothered Claire.

-Here he comes.- She sat up slowly, not bothering to fix her hair, it was only him. He held no tray, only the emotionless look he always had. He stopped at the bottom of the steps and gave her a command, "Follow me."

"Did she hear him right? Was he allowing her to leave her dark prison? With the assumption that she'd follow, he turned and went back up. Afraid he'd change his mind, she practically ran after him, bumping into him at the top. She apologized over and over, only receiving "helpful" information from him.

"If you behave, you may remain above ground, but cross me, and the basement floor will become your bed." Showing she understood, she nodded more than needed. Even though his back was turned, he knew she wasn't stupid. Walking through the threshold of the door she found herself in a… kitchen? Black tile lined the floor and granite beautifully decorated the countertops.

"Oh my God," Claire said astonished. A black refrigerator stood beside her, and still she found it hard to believe this was Wesker's kitchen. She never saw him as a man who enjoyed elegant things.

"Miss Redfield, have you never seen a kitchen before?" Wesker asked, his condescending tone had returned. This was no facility or lab, although Rockfort had elegant rooms, but Claire could see sunlight that had been spilt across the floor. It was actually warm, like a home, but it couldn't be. (A/N: Let's focus on Wesker… finally.) Why did he allow her up? Not even he knew. But kindness certainly wasn't the reason. He couldn't continue to reward her this way though.

-Everyone knows what kind gestures from a captor can do. But, the consequences would crush her dear brother.- His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, it was amazing even to him how brilliance struck people so suddenly. Too bad Dr. Birkin wasn't so quick. Wesker had actually grown fond of his young colleague, but like great minds, that mind of his took him too far.

"Monsieur!" Wesker was brought back to reality at hearing his cook. He was always happy or singing, but knew how to cope with his unenthusiastic employer.

"You have your own cook?" Claire asked, not even thinking he ate or could stand company.

"When I say 'the organization' takes care of me, I mean 'the organization' takes care of me." After receiving a warm welcome from the cook, Claire felt… At home actually. Sadly this recovered emotion had been taken away by Wesker, who had told Pierre was overdoing his job. Right now, Wesker watched Claire closely as she ate. He adjusted himself as he leaned on the granite counter, for once letting his guard down, and seeming comfortable.

She was Claire Redfield, the sister of the man that ruined his life. Yet, why didn't he want her dead? Was it because he preferred direct damage? This girl had never done anything wrong. It was Chris that had screwed up things up the mansion, he was the one who killed Alexia, all him.

Him, him, him! Despite all these thoughts, Wesker never showed an ounce of anger in his expression. Looking up he saw that Claire had finished and handed Pierre the plate, thanking him.

"I'll show you your room," said Wesker, already walking across the kitchen, arms folded. Noticing his haste, Claire followed him out to be greeted by a foyer, the royal red curtains made her feel like she was in a king's home. Staring down at the marble floor she saw her reflection staring back, sadly noticing how horrible she looked.

"Miss Redfield?" Wesker asked annoyed. He heard her hurrying after him up the stairs. He always liked a tight ship, no goofing off- well that's all S.T.A.R.S. did. Strangely to him, he considered those, "The days." Why couldn't he stop thinking of those imbeciles?

They were the traitors. He gave them chances. Even that dunce Joseph who had a chance to tell everyone, but he thought he could just receive the information and pretend he never heard it. Hadn't they heard the "Lemon" saying? Or maybe they just had a superior emotion and way of looking at things.

He shook his head at to himself and looked at Claire. _She_ would have made a _great_ ally. If she weren't the sister of the number one good-doer. As they made their way down the end of the hallway to the left, Claire saw many wooden doors, but could tell Wesker was headed for the double doors directly at the end. As Wesker made his way through the doors, Claire saw sky blue walls and a matching canopy bed directly in front of her.

Moving aside, Wesker allowed Claire to get a better look. -The window is a bit much.- As he thought this Wesker rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking at the large window to left wall that hospitably let in sunlight. No worries though, it was facing the woods, no one lived back there. She couldn't even figure out where she was. It could be Montana, Colorado, hell, any mountain area or place with forests.

"This should meet your needs. There's a bathroom to the right wall, and if you behave I might bring up a television. But for now I shall just ask the maid to bring up books, paper, whatever." Before he could walk out, Claire made a bold move and grabbed his arm.

"Thank you," she said genuinely. At these words "Wesker the Almighty" tensed. But at this shocking moment Claire let go confused. In order to keep her from questioning him he back out the doors and closed them slowly, but before the doors closed Claire saw his lips form words. No matter how crazy it sounded, she knew those words were "You're welcome."

Wesker may have been a lot of things but he knew what it was like to have someone. And this fact would soon have a witness.

A/N: Ok, I wonder does anyone know who Wesker and Steve were referring to. Anyone? Huh? Aw whatever! R&R! Oh and sorry if there are flaws, but my parents are on their way to Dallas to see a football game and dumping my brother and me at out tante's house. Well, happy turkey day!


	6. Something Other Than Neutral

A/N: Well I tried to focus on others and I know I probably screwed up the last part, but if the next chapter sucks then blame the umbrella this kid at school knocked me in the head with, injuring me and causing me to get an X-Ray which is annoying.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but this is mine.

He sat there, waiting silently, anxiously anticipating the arrival of his contact. The brunette tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, in a hurry to end this as soon as possible. These meetings had to end. He'd driven into the mountains just for this. But Jill and Chris never cared where he was.

The only person who _did_ care was Claire, and she was with Wesker. Suddenly he heard knocking on his window, and saw his contact gesture for him to get out of the car. The man led him back to his van that was parked behind his car, the usual black, with dark tinted windows. As they neared the van, Leon already knew who was inside, but he feared this person: the one who was in charge. The man kept his back to Leon, even when he opened the back door for him.

Deciding he had no interest in the man anyway, he didn't look his way when getting in the van, closing the door behind him. As his contact, who also appeared to be the chauffeur, got back in the driver's seat he locked all the doors. One thing that Leon knew well was that when the doors were locked, things were serious.

"Mr. Kennedy," came the voice of evil, straight from the devil's mouth. "I suppose we need to set up an ambush then eh?" Leon looked up at the old man sitting beside him, he was probably in his 80s, he had a deep voice that had that eerie sound of a demon, blue-gray eyes, freckled skin with deep creases above his forehead, giving him a constant frown, and slicked back gray hair. After staring at the intimidating man for a while, Leon finally spoke.

"Yes. Chris practically _sleeps_ with that damn disk, but don't worry. He'll never figure out how to break the encryption. Unless… Leon's mind wandered to Rebecca. She didn't need to get involved.

"Kennedy… Wesker has crossed me for the last time! I gave him his power, and he sold it all for a few million!" Despite the frail look of the man, he had power, of course this power had been stolen. Taken from the Ashfords, this man was even worse than Albert Wesker, for he was the man who made Albert Wesker. The man who gave him the chance to make a name for himself in Umbrella.

"Sir Spencer, you _will_ get your revenge, as long as you make sure Claire and the others are safe." Leon was serious now, not fearing this man anymore, but looking at him as an equal. This man held the planets in his hands , and Claire's life, as well as his.

----------------------------------

"Hello, may I speak to Rebecca?" The man on the other end was afraid. What could they want, who was it? He decided to go ahead and let Rebecca see who it was. As he walked into the bedroom he saw the 19 year old girl turn in her sleep. Smiling at her, he sat beside her and shook her gently.

"Becky?" Green eyes opened slowly, and at seeing her companion a smile crept across her face.

"What is it?" Spotting the phone, she reached for it, and put it to her ear. "Hello? Oh my God! It's been so long! Where are you? …'Nough said. I'll be there ASAP." Rebecca pressed the talk button and tossed the phone to the side.

"That was Chris… Claire's in trouble." The young girl sat up and sighed. She owed Chris, he saved her life. Nothing was too much for that man. Her green eyes wandered to her friend's tattooed arm. "You don't have to come. You could be found.

"No one cares anymore," said the brunette man reassuringly. He was handsome, in a bad boy way. Rebecca could only stare at his muscular body that he'd maintained, and she'd maintained the feelings she had for him. She still felt the need to protect this man, afraid she'd loose the only person she really had left.

"But I can't loose you, Billy," she said, her tone pleading. He could say nothing else, for who knew what the fates had in store, but the fates themselves?

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For once, since… _he_ didn't even remember how long, he'd slept in. Not even the great Wesker could go forever without sleep. Sure he had to stay up in rainforests during downpours on his belly in the mud through terrifying nights of war, but then, he had no choice. Now he could afford to let his guard down. This fact made him pity humans.

They always had to worry about tomorrow, never the moment at hand. Death didn't happen to him, for he'd taken up death's role. He felt relaxed; he'd slept all night, not bothering to check on Claire. Her door only opened from the outside anyway, unless she had a key of course. He almost smiled a bit at her strength, but caught himself.

"What am I thinking? Then again she _is_ a Redfield." Memories of Chris flashed through his mind. If only he had a backbone, the ambition… If only. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and groaned, knowing that he'd find Claire's room a mess.

Too bad if she'd messed up that pretty room, only to find there was no way out. Maybe he should have mentioned the special glass for her window. -Ok, shower first, _then_ I'll see Redfield.- As he got up one would notice how it was a fluid motion, not like he was tired or not fully awake. Looking at him -ignoring the eyes of course- one would see him as a regular man, who went to work, worked out, slept, and did everyday things other men did.

But as everyone knows, you can't judge a book by it's cover. Like every other man he had secrets, just not your average secrets. Maybe Wesker was doing right, or wrong. Maybe it was both -Umbrella, HCF, S.T.A.R.S.- all of them caused damage. Where did any of them stand? Good, evil, neutral? Or maybe it was something else.

A/N: Well, I got nothing to say except I have a surprise just for Avrile in the chapters to come and forgive me if I made a few errors, but ever since the blow to the head I've been tired. Well, please R&R!


	7. Emotion

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but this is mine and I'm pissed because an error report popped up right when I was almost done so I have to type this shit again pardon my French and if any errors are on here forgive me, but right now I'm too pissed to care.

"Well, come now dear," said Emily, the maid. Claire had been afraid ever since yesterday, basically because of Wesker's "strange" behavior. He'd given her a comfortable room, her own bathroom, privacy, and a new wardrobe. Something was wrong, but the fact that he came in and watched her until she woke up was just eerie. The short, chubby maid smiled warmly at Claire, and walked ahead of her down the stairs.

It was strange that Wesker had pictures lining the walls. This man or whatever you wanted to call him, was alone as far as she knew. Claire saw the maid looking up at her, making Claire hurry down to the chubby brunette. Entering the double doors to her right Claire saw it was a dinging room. White walls and chandeliers graced the large room, and in front of her was a long table.

What Claire didn't expect to see was Wesker at the end talking to a blonde girl. As she neared the two blondes she took a deep breath, praying that she was wrong about the person's identity. A smirking Wesker looked at her and she knew he wanted her hurt, for that smirk was _the_ smirk.

"Good morning dear heart." Something about the tone of his voice seemed mocking and when the girl beside him turned around Claire knew why.

"Claire!" It was Sherry Birkin, the little girl Claire had failed to keep out of Wesker's hands. She could feel the world spinning underneath her. Everything seemed to blur together now, and she felt herself falling.

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"Claire? Wake up Claire." The sing-song voice brought Claire back from her unconsciousness. She found that she was back in her room on her bed, with Sherry sitting near her. The red-head practically jumped up.

"Sherry, where have you been, what has Wesker been done to you? Claire's questioned went unanswered.

"Uncle Wesker would _never_ hurt me," replied the little girl, and she seemed so sure. She even called him uncle, so obviously Wesker had actually shown some affection for the child. Wait a minute, that didn't sound right. "Wesker showing affection."

"Sherry that bastard has no heart! He could never care for or love anyone or anything," pleaded a desperate Claire. She wanted Sherry to understand that Wesker was not the man she believed he was. No matter how kind he seemed, he was still the bad guy, but Sherry was a child, and grown-ups shared things with kids.

"Claire, uncle Wesker _does_ love someone!" At this, Claire rolled her eyes, but decided to go along with it.

"Fine Sherry, who does uncle Wesker love?" Instead of an answer Sherry left. Staring at the open doors, Claire couldn't believe Wesker trusted her with roaming freedom. Of course by the time she'd have reached the front door, Wesker would have been where she was going. Suddenly Sherry ran back in, holding a book and jumped into the bed happily.

Presenting the object, Claire saw it was a scrap book. "What's this?" Claire's eyes opened wide as she opened the book. Smiling back at her was a beautiful Hispanic woman with cinnamon skin, dark brown eyes, and long, black, wavy, hair. "Who's this?" Claire's voice was shaky and even she didn't know why.

"That's Monette," said a smiling Sherry. "She was… Well, Wesker knew her." Of course Sherry's explanation couldn't end there.

"How?" Claire questioned further, wanting to know more about the young woman in this picture. Instead of answering, Sherry used action again, and flipped the page. The image of Wesker and Monette face to face scared Claire. She could feel the love reverberating from the picture. Through the shades she knew Wesker's eyes were the same as Monette's: full of love and want. Flipping through the scrapbook Claire found numerous pictures of the happy couple.

Happy… But if she was happy then where was she now? Claire couldn't ignore the fact that this woman who was supposedly happy was nowhere in sight.

"Sherry, what happened to her?" Claire feared the answer of course, but needed to now.

"Well," began Sherry, her eyes wandered around the room. This wasn't a good sign. "She- it was an accident," Sherry stammered. "It was Um-"

"Miss Birkin. I hope you don't make a habit of sneaking into my room and taking things that don't belong to you." Before the child could answer, Wesker had ruined it. Turning to the blonde man, she chuckled nervously. Without him having to say it, she gave him the album. His face fell into an emotion between sadness, and hard thought.

There was emotion in those pages. Emotions Claire shouldn't have seen. Emotions that made him go back in time. Only Monette witnessed that emotion, and the eyes of a child: Sherry's eyes. They held the same emotion as Monette's eyes when… When they were last seen open.

R&R please, because it makes me feel good and update faster.


	8. Besos Lead to Amor

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own Monette and this fic.

Rain beat down heavily on the battered body of Albert Wesker. How could it get worse? He'd been shot, rained on, and bitten mercilessly by blood deprived mosquitoes in a rain forest in South America. He'd crawled in the direction of the cabin he saw. His eyes never left the direction.

Pain wracked his body and darkness caused him to leave behind his shades a little ways back. If only the determination had a witness. Well, by more than one person, for his struggle through the mud hadn't gone unnoticed. Through the rain he saw movement of blinds, someone had seen him. Knowing he'd be rescued, he rolled over on his back and let the rain clean his face of the mud and blood, before slipping off to sleep, he grinned at his luck.

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It was warm, he heard someone moving around, and got up slowly to see his rescuer.

"Hola. Como estas usted?" Wesker stared at the cinnamon skinned girl that had just pulled on a black long-sleeved shirt. He looked at his surroundings: wooden furniture, photos that lined the walls, and the rocking chair the young girl sat in. When he didn't answer she asked, "Americano?"

"Yes," he said, his voice cracking. At the sound of his voice she got a glass of water she had ready for him on the nightstand and carefully gave it to him. After practically downing it, she took the empty glass away and replaced it on the counter.

"It's ok," she said soothingly. He was surprised she had no accent when she spoke English. "You have a fever and you've only been asleep for an hour. I think you might be dehydrated also, so I'll keep bringing you water, but right now, sleep." She placed a small hand on his bare chest, but he didn't care that she'd undressed him. She saved him.

His eyelids became heavy, so he didn't resist, and fell asleep. When he woke up though he could hear birds chirping happily, and felt the warm sunlight laying over his bare chest from the window above him. After remembering what happened, he shot up, but winced in pain. He could see that the young woman who saved him did great patch work on him, so obviously, he wasn't the first guy she'd helped. Suddenly she appeared again, but this time with a tray.

"You're awake," she said happily, sitting the tray on his lap after allowing him to sit up. He was so happy to see "food." It was better than energy bars and water from a creek. He enjoyed his brunch, happy that she saved him. How could she be so nice to a man she didn't know? After he wolfed down the food and water she suddenly said, "You know, you're the only one who's lasted over night." The others die in their sleep. "What's your name?"

Not looking at her he said, "Wesker." She nodded. After taking the tray away he didn't see her for a while. He wouldn't have minded the company, especially in his current position. Why was she so far out there alone?"

What luck he had. He was supposed to be gone and dead, but here he was: alive and getting great treatment from a beautiful young woman. Hopefully she wouldn't try and take him to a hospital. At the time, mercenaries and American soldiers were being killed there. Of course she seemed intelligent enough to know this.

After what felt like forever, she returned with an electric thermometer and sat beside him, not asking him to open his mouth because he already knew to do it. After the device beeped, it informed him that his fever was rising, worrying her. She was so quiet, so attentive.

"Who are you?" Wesker finally asked after she gave him dinner that night.

"Monette Esmeralda LaCour."

"Not your name. Just, who are you?"

"20, mother lives here, father is French and a billionaire, spending it all on some bitch in Amsterdam. I just wanted peace in my little secluded cabin. I'm a bit Americanized, but here I am, back home. In short, I'm your heroine."

"Thank you for that." Silence filled the air for a bit until she presented him clothes that were his brothers. That night was hell for him, she was determined to sweat that fever out of him. He began to sweat heavily that night, panting and trying to remove the many quilts Monette had placed on him. She only dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth and gave him glasses of cold water.

"Shh, I know it's hot, but you have a horrible fever, which is good, it means you're getting better. We just have to get it out of you. He didn't know if he was dreaming or not, but he could have sworn she kissed his forehead.

He felt her take his hand in hers with a strong grip. It was apparent she wanted him to live. So for her, he would. A warm smile crossed her face as she felt his grip tighten. Hopefully not another soldier would die in her cabin.

-----A Few Months Later-----

Wesker was well, but had problems with his left leg every now and then from a stab he took. The resistance was still going on, but Wesker was enjoying laying low. Monette, at times, still treated him as if he were injured, of course he was almost better than before. For once he'd accepted help from another, and realized he couldn't do everything alone.

"Don't you have friends or someone back in America?" Monette became curious about him, after all, he was practically living with her.

"You're the only friend I need." Never had he shown emotion, why now? Mostly he helped around the house, or took care of the annoying baboons coming from the jungle to make a mess. He grinned at her, he was so damned attractive! Adjusting his new shades, he came towards her slowly.

This was like a dream, or a movie at least. Never had he expected to save a man's life, and the guy being hot. She didn't remember how it happened, but it was happening. He was kissing her lips softly, and she felt her knees buckle underneath her, and she held onto the front of his shirt tightly. Suddenly he broke the kiss , only to begin placing more heated kisses on her neck.

This was all so strange. For months now he'd shown none of these emotions, but today it was all coming out. Monette for one, knew what this would lead to and she feared it. It would feel weird to break his heart after saving him, or him to break hers.

Even as she spoke, he didn't stop kissing her, "Wesker, I- I don't want to hurt you." He looked at her and caressed her cheek gently.

"Dear heart, if don't wish to, then don't. Because _I_ would never hurt _you_. You saved my life, dragged me straight from the mud dearest… I love you."

"Why? I mean after all these months why now?"

"Why _not_ now?" She smiled at this and decided there'd be no regrets.

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After the night that would last in Wesker's mind forever, came another memorable moment. He'd asked her to marry him, and she said yes. How could she say no? Although now, for her safety, he wished she'd have said no. Because when he thought about it, if he would have died, she would have lived.

A/N: Hmmm, I've been thinking a lot and that's good. Well, please review. I'm serious, REVIEW. Aren't I so demanding.


	9. Likeness

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own Monette and this fic.

Blue eyes were now searching for any emotion from Wesker. During his story he'd shown plenty of it. Now that he'd ended it so abruptly, he reverted back to the cold bastard he was.

"Wesker?" Claire and Sherry stared at him from the bed. For all they knew he could have been asleep. He sat in a nearby chair with his head down and those _damned_ shades. "What then? What happened? Did you kill her?" Then he was on her, choking her, while Sherry begged for him to let Claire go.

"Please uncle Wesker let her go, please!" Claire's face turned blue, tears welled up in her eyes, and all the while Sherry continued her pleas. Wesker couldn't take Sherry's cries anymore, so he released Claire, allowing her to sit up. Holding her throat, Claire coughed, and knew she'd be able to see marks his hands left days later. All he could do was walk away, but when he reached the door Claire stopped him.

"You hurt her, didn't you?

"I never meant to hurt her," he said after minutes of unbearable silence. With that, he left and Claire wouldn't see him until dinner. Sherry refused to tell Claire what happened to Monette; it was Wesker's business to tell, not her own. Dinner was annoyingly quiet. Even Sherry was quiet, but Claire wanted the truth, and persistence amused Wesker.

"Wesker why won't you tell me?"

"Why do you want to know?" Again, Claire quieted. She didn't know why she cared. Was it all about the girl, or was she digging for something else?

"I'm just concerned about her, whoever she is. You could have locked her up somewhere."

"She is."

"Claire don't," whispered Sherry. Not saying another word, Wesker left the table, seeming to have lost his appetite.

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Everything was so unclear for the man who once had the answer to everything. One year ago he voluntarily "lost" his life, but he came home to find he'd lost something more important. No genetically altered virus could undo the damage done. Redfield was pissing him off now, more than ever. So what if the past wasn't buried, just barely covered up?

"Oh my God, Monette. I'm so sorry." Three years was a short amount of time, and that's all he had with Monette. Four years of marriage now and what did he have to show for it? No babies, no house in the suburbs, just photos, and a hospital room that had been reserved for a year now. "Where did our life go?"

"Where _did_ it go Wesker?" Claire was back, standing at the office door. "Didn't you have kids? Weren't you happy?"

"Two, and yes." He turned away from her in the rotating chair, leaving her staring at the back.

"So you have children?"

"_Had_. Twins. Adrian and Vispera. A boy and a girl. They didn't make it." For the second time in his adult life he felt a tear fall down his cheek. Who thought _those_ eyes could ever cry? Claire's persistence reminded him of his wife's hardheadedness. They were so alike, yet so different. They had the same spirit and bravery, so Wesker didn't understand why Claire frustrated him so.

"Mi cielo, you're pushing her away."

"What?" Wesker turned in his chair only to see that a confused Claire had come closer.

"What?" Claire raised an eyebrow at him, afraid his sanity was leaving him. At least the bit he had left. Was he crazy- stupid question.

"Querido mío." Looking to Claire's left, he saw her. Blinking wildly he tried to decipher reality and fantasy.

"What do you mean?" He needed to talk to his wife. Illusion or no. Claire looked around, finding no one.

"Albert, she so much like me, and you're pushing her away."

"Are you suggesting-"

"No sweetie, but she could be someone there for you. Since I can't anymore…" The illusion Monette looked down sadly and tucked her black hair behind her ears, then her hands in the pockets of her jeans. She seemed so real, but Wesker knew she wasn't.

"It's _my_ fault, so don't feel bad dearest," pleaded Wesker. Claire's eyes darted left and right trying to figure out who Wesker was having a conversation with

"Um, Wesker, come back to earth." Claire waved her hands in front of him, but his eyes were fixed on something unseen by her.

"Wesker, admit it. She's like me. She's beautiful, sassy, and a fighter."

"Monette, you're still like that."

She gave a light chuckle and said, "Baby, I don't see how I can be sassy, and as for fighting, yeah. But I _do_ love you. _Still_. So… Lighten up hon."

After blowing him a kiss she was gone. Leaving him alone with a very confused Claire. The mood of the room was a bit depressing, and the silence only worsened it.

Without looking at Claire, Wesker said, "So, you want to know. Then you will." It time to open that chapter again.

R&R!


	10. Silence

A/N: I'm baaaaaack! Thanks to MariFM, of course. Eden fans I'm ready to set this thing to work. For a while now I've been on Monette- I didn't plan to put her in this fic, but you see, I ran out of things that would make Claire see Wesker in a good way… sorta. But Monette's gonna only be around for about three more chapters and for those of you who are sick of her no, the next chapter (chapter 12) won't be about her. It's about Leon for all you Leon lovers. Yes I've been thinking. So for all of the people who actually like my fics, thank you, I love you all, and enjoy!

She was miserable, for she was in New York, and Monette _hated _New York. At the time, she and Wesker were living in an old apartment, Umbrella wasn't paying so much, and the S.T.A.R.S. paycheck wasn't doing as well either. Monette had no job, for Wesker refused to allow her to belly-dance, considering the clubs or schools were so strange and untrustworthy. If he didn't think it was safe for his wife why'd he come? Oh yes, his mother.

The honeymoon was over and Monette's father said he wasn't paying their bills. Since Monette had married Wesker she had to start over and work for a degree in psychology over the internet. Wesker knew why Umbrella was holding out, it was because Spencer wanted to send Wesker a message. He was tired of Wesker snooping, but he didn't want him dead.

"Aren't you hungry?" Wesker looked up from his Chinese takeout to see Monette grimacing at her own.

"I don't trust Chinese people when you can't see them cooking."

"Dearest, I ate there from birth till I left at eighteen."

"I always wondered what went wrong.," she said, not finding a trace of the humor intended in her own joke.

"Come on hon, if you don't eat, you can't give me babies." He was right, she needed something to occupy her time with. Breastfeeding and diapers might as well be a few of those things.

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A few weeks later, Monette didn't feel too good at all. As her husband searched high and low for his keys, she sat at the kitchen counter holding her head. It was morning sickness.

"Hey, if you want I can take you to my mother's and she can talk with you about it." Wesker had found his keys, and was standing by Monette.

"Honey, no. I'm fine. This headache will pass, I'll be throwing up in a few minutes, I'll stuff my face, cry about some soap opera, and then doze off watching Maury. Oh, and probably argue with you for a made-up reason when you get back."

"Ok," he said grinning and kissed her on the forehead.

"Bye honey." As soon as the door closed, she doubled over in pain. "Ah! ¡ _Aye Dios mío!_" She held her head, unable to believe a headache like this was even possible- even a part of pregnancy. As the pain subsided, she sighed in relief.

After an unfulfilling call to her doctor she found there was no medicine she was allowed to take. Well, anything she _could_ take, she didn't have. She sat on the couch in front of the TV, just staring at a bottle of Excedrin while her head pounded. Temptation was about to get the best of her, until the phone rang.

"Hello?" Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she yawned.

"Are you alive?" It was Wesker. She chuckled, but she really wanted to kill him. Obviously, she wasn't ready for a baby. She couldn't even keep away from aspirin.

"I'm still here." She felt comforted a bit by his concern, but his concern would only grow, until that day…

------7 Months Later------

One month premature. Two underweight newborns crying out, still not touched by their mother, nor their father. Instead of being placed in their parents arms, they were being placed in a NICU.

"Albert, where are my babies?" asked Monette, tears in her eyes, sweat on her forehead. She was fatigued, and according to doctors, too petite to give birth to twins. Her husband cupped her face on his hands and smiled.

"They'll be ok. They're in the NICU. You did great dearest." He kissed her forehead gently and she gave a slight smile as if the gesture took strength. "You're glowing."

"I look hideous." For once he was smiling sincerely, no humor.

"You're beautiful." She felt anxious, and wanted desperately to see their product of love and emotion. She felt wise, like an adult, like a mother. A need to nurse her children overwhelmed her, and she tried to get up. "Love, please sit down."

"No, I wanna see my babies, _por favor_?" It was a question, but her voice made it seem like a statement. Before Wesker could give in, doctors entered, their faces solemn. "What's wrong?" I was intuition, and inside, she knew something was wrong.

"There were… complications," said the head doctor. Silence. Heartbreaking silence.

"No," breathed Monette. "No."

"Maybe it isn't too bad," soothed Wesker. He placed a shaking hand on her back. Never had her husband shook. Never. Obviously, deep down inside, he knew what she felt.

"Mrs. Wesker… when you found you were with twins, we told you _one_ could make it. You compli-"

"My babies can't be dead!" she cried, interrupting the doctor. "No." She gathered her strength and practically jumped from her bed, disconnecting the IV. She heard her name being yelled, but she only continued down the hall until she reached the NICU. "Dammit!" she cried as she tried to open the glass doors; they were locked.

Her breath caught in her throat, her heartbeat slowed, and her eyes followed the nurses who had gone to the back, holding her children.

"Adrian! Vispera!" She beat on the glass, calling to her children, but she could feel hands pulling her away, Wesker's hands. Her sobs were heard by all. All but her newborns who would never hear their mother's voice. Never get to live.

This was Monette, this was Wesker wife.

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"Over time, she worsened." Claire's head was down, but she still listened intently to Wesker. "It seemed after every time we kissed, she was pregnant. She just could never stay pregnant. Miscarriage after miscarriage after miscarriage.

"Why did she miscarry so much?" Still, Claire's head stayed down, afraid to look in Wesker's eyes.

"She made herself sick: stress, Umbrella, and she never would give up on her rant that someone killed our children. Also, she hated New York to the core. We fought, she tried to kill herself, then she was packing one day, saying that I could deal with Umbrella alone because she had, had enough. But then something happened."

"What?"

"I was transferred." Silence. That poor woman -she was barely grown- had endured fifty years worth of drama. Claire heard Wesker stand up from his desk and he stopped beside her chair. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"To see my wife."


	11. Who?

A/N: Hey, first and foremost I wish to apologize for my butchering of the English language, but I get in such a rush when I update that I forget to edit or I slip up big time. I also forgot I was doing chapter 10 and said Leon would be in 12, but he's in this one. Just about everyone is in this one though because I have been having some bad cases of writer's block so Leon has to share. I'll try to update more often, so I'm sooooooo sorry! My little, big-headed brother was on the computer every time I tried to update, personal issues with an ex who just realized he needs me when I decide to try and move on, and I just finished almost nine hours of lawn labor at our new home so please cut me some slack. Well, on to the chapter! P.S. It may suck a little cause I couldn't think of anything.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but this fic and Monette are MINE… yeah, I'm possessive, so what?

You will never know someone. Never know every detail, their feelings, their thoughts. Leon took this fact to heart. No one knew- well, his "friends"- never knew the truth about where he stood… or stands. His little "secret meetings" were happening more and more often now.

Tonight's meeting, however, would be possibly the most dangerous, for his contact's true intentions were constantly shrouded with wonder.

"Leon," came the smooth voice. Sometimes the voice made his heart flutter, other times it made his blood run cold. Tonight, it was the latter. Turning around, he saw her. She wore a black trench coat, and a lamp on one of the alley's buildings shed a little light on her.

If this were any other time, he'd laugh at the cheesy setting. He felt like he was in an old spy movie.

"Ada." Face to face with deceit itself can be an unearthly time. There was love in their eyes, somewhere, but not tonight.

"What did you want?"

"Your help," he replied, not beating around the bush. She laughed at him and his request, but couldn't break him down like she wanted to.

"This is all so cliché Leon! But _you_ asking for _my_ help. Now _that_ is novel." Her laughter soon died, and her smile faded with the knowledge that he didn't even see her as the woman he had fallen for. Instead, tonight was about Claire. The look on his face was like that of a stubborn man's. Obviously he wasn't giving up.

"Ok," she gave in. "What do you need me to do?"

"Keep an eye on Wesker, go back to work for him."

"I can't."

"Why?" he asked, sounding fed up. Was this Leon? No, this was Leon in love. Could he love Claire, or was Ada's stubbornness what had him so heated?

"Wesker hasn't called me back to work. He doesn't trust me." The last bit seemed like it hurt her to admit it. "He _shouldn't_ trust me."

"Your loyalty to HCF is not of my concern Ada. I _need_ you to go back. Stop Wesker-"

"I know this isn't just about Claire!" Ada surprised him. Her cool exterior had broken with the creases of a frown. "This is for Spencer huh? Your debt?" He said nothing, for nothing needed to be said. Ada's question was the answer.

"Ada, please." Leon never really realized how much Ada changed around him. Her words were chosen carefully, and to lessen the time spent she was nasty, even her face mocking. She gave a sigh of surrender.

"Fine, Leon. I'll do it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Even though we're on the same side, I think that the Organization and the crumbling Umbrella will make a great team against Wesker and his wannabe Umbrella." A slight smile crossed her face, and Leon saw it, giving him reason to do the same.

"Thank you Ada."

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"Where are they?" asked an impatient Chris. He switched feet restlessly and folded and unfolded his arms.

"Chris, calm down," warned Jill. His eyes searched the airport restlessly for his old friends. "Wait, is that them?" Jill stood on her tip toes and pointed. A minute later that saw Rebecca and a man heading towards them.

"Chris!" cried Rebecca, a huge smile on her face. The man gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"I'm Billy." Billy felt a bit of nervousness, these were cops. The risk of coming though was high, but these guys needed all the help they could get. "Let's get outta here." They all agreed, realizing that Billy could be seen.

"Where's Leon?" asked Rebecca.

"Who the hell's Leon?" Billy raised a brow and looked down to Rebecca, hoping she could fill in the blanks for him. He didn't know every detail about S.T.A.R.S. or Raccoon City, just that the forest was his temporary prison. Maybe now he would know everything necessary, and maybe they'd know what Rebecca felt hesitant about telling them.

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They hadn't gone yet, instead Claire watched Wesker pop in a videotape. Claire had repeatedly asked what happened to Monette, so before they left, he showed her.

"I'll be back when you're done," he announced, and left, closing the door. Claire stared at the blue screen on the TV. Did she dare look at it? Well, she _did_ want to know. She assumed Wesker stood outside the door listening, not wanting to see it again, for she heard no footsteps.

"Ok," she said to herself, and pressed Play. She saw the date, 7/21/98: the same date of the Spencer Estate incident. The TV then showed two feet.

"In a few months, I won't be able to see 'em," said a voice. Monette's voice. Claire pulled a chair close to the TV, and sat in it. "Hmmm… Where's my husband? Albert! _¿Donde estas?_" A few seconds later a very tired looking Wesker trudged into the room Claire assumed was the living room. It looked a lot better than how he described his apartment in New York. This must have been his house.

"_Hola baby,"_ said Monette. "_¿Como estas?" _

"Turn off the damn camera," he ordered. He wasn't sounding mean, just cranky. His eyes were blue and his blonde hair looked a bit disheveled. "You're the perkiest pregnant woman I know." The camera followed Wesker to a couch, which he plopped down on.

Letting out a yawn, he stretched. Monette neared him and sat beside him. After turning the camera around, Monette smiled into the lens, causing Claire to do the same.

"He just hasn't had his coffee," she whispered.

"Shut up," he said.

"No, you shut up," she retorted. "I'll kill you dude!" They seemed so happy, even happier as Wesker grabbed her face and gently kissed her.

"I love you," he breathed.

"I love you too." The camera went off, only to come back on a few seconds later. The camera was on Monette, her face just as happy as before, but her hair was a little messed up. "Wesker is at work and he's just received mail from Umbrella. Let's read it, since he told me I could read any of their _official_ mail." Monette looked down and cleared her throat dramatically, readying to read the letter.

_We hope you are satisfied with the payment given. For the good of this company we believe Dr. William Birkin is no longer trustworthy and have decided to take action. The decision to exterminate Dr. Birkin is what we believe to be a wise one. A bright mind he has, but it is one-track. The Dr. shouldn't be hard to find once the chaos breaks out. Tell your group to keep a look out for him; any opportunity to exterminate him will be good enough._

_Thank you for your services Alex Whistler_

"Who the hell is…" Her face became pale and she seemed like she was about to hyperventilate. "Oh God. Thi- this is for someone else. Birkin…" Ding-dong. The doorbell. She set down the camera facing the door and went to open it. As soon as that door opened, it closed and a man along with Monette went to the floor. The camera only captured her screams, and that's when Claire saw Wesker reaching for the Stop button. The screen went blue, and Claire's eyes were wide.

"Came home that night," came Wesker's voice, invading her ears. "Gaping hole in my gut, barely healed. They were taking her away on a stretcher, I knew we'd lost another baby, and that I'd lost her." His back was still to her, his gloved hand still rested upon the VCR. "I had her transferred and made headlines: 'Albert Wesker's Secret Wife in Coma.' That letter sealed her fate-our fate. At least she put up a fight, which you didn't get to see. We were supposed to leave town. Just leave town."

Now-cold tears ran over the sides of Claire's hands that were clasped together, and the thought of family came to mind. Everyone and everything was falling apart. Who could take any of this? Who?

A/N: I know it was like the worst chapter I've ever done, but the next one will be sooooooo much better… I hope. Cause we have freakin' GEE testing coming up Monday. That really sucks, but oh well, I have goals! Pass the GEE and do better chapters! Love ya'll, so review!


	12. Rest

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, just Monette and this fic… and my doggy.

"Sir, who is your guest?" asked the nurse. She looked like an old fashioned woman from the movies. She wore red lipstick and had her long blonde hair back.

"A friend of my wife's." The nurse nodded at Wesker, giving him the go-ahead to go to Monette's room. Claire stared at the people wheeling themselves around the hallway, and even though they seemed fine and dandy, she knew it was a different story internally. This wasn't just any hospital though, it was an HCF hospital, and why he would send his wife to employers who didn't trust him was beyond her. They reached the room and Claire saw how Wesker had seemed to have completely shut down.

"Wesker?" Slowly, he reached for the knob, and Claire heard a _click_. The door opened without a creak, and after Wesker walked in, Claire braced herself and followed. Once inside, she was greeted by the _beep, beep_ of the monitors. Colorful balloons and flower baskets with cards inside set bunched together on tables.

In the bed lie Monette LaCour-Wesker. Her breath caught in her throat as she observed the forever-unconscious beauty. How did she manage to look like an Egyptian goddess in such an unfortunate situation? Claire's blue eyes now lay upon Wesker, his head down and his shaded eyes undoubtedly staring at Monette.

_What man wouldn't stare?_ An irreversible coma was what kept her from coming back- what kept her from her husband.

"Monette?" asked Wesker. He spoke in a voice unrecognizable to Claire, one of concern and love. "I'm here sweetheart. I came to see you." The fact that she couldn't respond must have been killing him, and the worst part was that in theory, she could hear him.

"Dearest, we all need you back so bad. Spencer-" Claire saw it too. At the mention of Spencer's name, Monette's left hand twitched.

"Has she ever done that?" asked a wide-eyed Claire.

"No," Wesker almost whispered. He leaned down to her, his wife, the only woman he was gentle to and stroked her blue black hair. "Is there something you need to tell me? About Spencer?" They waited. Nothing.

"Was it just their imaginations? Claire watched Wesker slowly rise up, but in the blink of an eye, a hand shot up, gripping onto Wesker's arm. A few seconds later the young woman shot up, and stared at him. Claire's heartbeat slowed, and she could hear it through the silence.

"Wesker?" Monette, awake, beautiful. These things were what made Claire's mind spin. This meant what? After Monette began sobbing, Claire couldn't help but let tears fall down her own cheeks. "Wesker!"

Without a word, he bent down and took her into his arms. How was this happening? The coma was irreversible.

"Monette! I thought I'd lost you forever!"

"It was so dark for so long Wesker! Dream after dream and sometimes I wouldn't dream. I heard you!" Monette's skin, the color of café au lait, was turning red as tears ran from her eyes. Joy replaced all emotions as Wesker gently grabbed her face and kissed her softly. Standing there, Claire felt invisible, and felt herself blushing.

"_Mi cielo,_" panted Monette after the kiss. "I can't believe this!"

"Yes, you're awake. After so long…" So long indeed.

"I-I have to tell the doctors." The blond practically ran from the room, leaving Claire with the woman who could melt the icy heart of the cold bastard who was her husband. The weak woman sat up against her pillows.

"Hello, Claire."

"How do you know me?" Claire felt fear and confusion. Monette looked so intimidating right now, as if she were threatened.

"You look like your brother," she stated blandly. So Chris knew Wesker had a wife? Damn him. He knew his captain had a defenseless, comatose wife, someone Wesker would be cut down for if anything happened to her. How could Chris -even though he wasn't malicious like that- not use Monette to get her back. Suddenly, Claire heard a sniffle.

"I don't have much time," she said, low as a whisper. Again, Monette began crying, causing Claire to do the same. "He has them."

"Who has who?" Claire asked, nearing the hospital bed.

"He's listening. But he took them from me Claire. The word _them_ caught her attention. The children. But who was him? Was he really listening, whoever he was?

"Who is-"

"Just tell Wesker to get them back. Please." Claire nodded her head. Of course, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the person who took the children; Wesker would kill them- no, torture them. "Also, he tells me things. Claire, Wesker needs more help than you think. Ok?"

"Yes," replied Claire, her voice breaking. Then it happened. A tear dropped from Monette's eye, and her chest no longer moved. "Monette?" The Hispanic woman appeared to struggle, but managed to suck in a bit of air. Before her eyes, Claire witnessed Monette fall back onto her pillows, gasping for air, the monitors blared, and Claire tried to soothe the convulsing Monette. Doctors barged in, Wesker on their tails, everyone checking vital stats, updating the doctor. Not a soul moved Claire from the bedside though, in all the turmoil and commotion.

"Monette!" cried Claire, earning a questioning look from a slightly looking Wesker. _Yeah, I care you bastard. Because she would have made you stop this Umbrella nonsense._

"Dearest, come on now. Relax," soothed Wesker, rubbing her arm after a nurse injected something into her IV.

"She can't breath!" shouted Claire. It was true, and now Monette stopped shaking, but instead let out pained cries. Wesker grabbed her hand, getting a squeeze of acknowledgement in return. Then, her pain seemed to stop.

"I love you," Wesker whispered. He knew this was it, even though the monitors held a steady beat.

"I love you," she breathed. Apparently, it was her last breath. The breath she'd struggled to get earlier was for this. She knew her fate, and now everyone else did as a single piercing beep carried on.

"Get me-"

"No," interrupted Wesker. The doctor looked bewildered. This was wrong. She was fine a few moments ago. Where had the doctors been.?

What took Wesker so long to finish up? Shouldn't they have bolted in after hearing their patient who was in an irreversible coma was awake? Why was Claire so enraged?

"Where were you?!" she suddenly yelled. "Huh?!" No reply.

"Yes, _where_ were you?" chimed in Wesker. It took him forever to find any of them. "_Where?_" he repeated impatiently. In a half of a second, Wesker had one of the doctors in the air by his throat. Claire had been in this position before, and it was _not_ comfortable.

"Find the problem," Wesker commanded, and then dropped the man. The doctor scrambled to his feet, adjusting the thick glasses. "_Now!_" Wesker barked. The doctors and nurses left quickly, preparing for the autopsy. Claire already knew what they'd find though.

An _unauthorized_ stimulant no doubt. "Wesker, I have to tell you something…" She stopped, for looking up she was rewarded with a most pitiable sight: Wesker crying. It was a bittersweet moment. A feeling she had yet to experience was wracking Wesker.

"Wesker…" Her eyes blurred once more with tear, and his black clothing was all of him she saw walking to the bed where he stroked his late wife's hair. It's not her," said Claire, barely above a whisper. "It's not her."

A/N: It's late and I didn't feel like proofreading so I have no idea if there are errors, but review and have a great spring break. Always use protection!


	13. Death of an Angel

A/N: I apologize for the delay and people are probably super pissed. I've been unbelievably tired since I've stopped napping in school because if I wanna get out early I gotta pull myself together. I've actually been done with this chapter for a few days, but have been focusing on reading my Bible because I kinda need a bit of spiritual guidance. But yeah, Psalms has helped a lot cause two important guys in my life have kinda abandoned me and it hurt, and I kinda skipped the grieving process which isn't always good, so I hope this chapter is decent and I'm already working on the next one so enjoy. And I was gonna put up that reply to that anonymous reviewer that I have on my profile but I'm trying not to be so bitter and learn to let shit go, so just don't get on my bad side anyone because it's a love me (it) or hate me (it) thing so either you like it or just go the you-know-what away. (Trying to also cut down on my use of profanity.)

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but this fic and anything I add is mine 'kay? Not a problem good? Good. Also, the word Tacosita, a nickname for my favorite actress Lindsay Hartley on her soap isn't my word. Just so ya know.

Where did they all come from? For the first time in two days, Claire saw Wesker. He greeted all the foreigners that came into his backyard like he wasn't really there. How could a man on such a high pedestal fall so greatly? He turned his head to look at the redhead, only to see she shared the same grief as his in-laws.

Monette had so much family, but according to Sherry, Wesker had stopped the invitations at second cousins. Some French members from Monette's father's family spoke sadly, but Claire couldn't speak enough French to understand fully. The yard seemed segregated as all the South Americans, Mexicans, Portuguese, and Spaniards stayed on one side while the white Frenchmen remained on the other. A few Hispanics were wailing over Monette's closed coffin, while the others spoke to one another, but Claire only knew how to say hola, adios, hasta la vista, and yo quiero Taco Bell. Looking back to Wesker, Claire saw him hugging a hysterical woman who looked almost exactly like Monette, but older.

"Theresa will never be the same," commented Sherry. "Monette was her first and favorite daughter, according to Wesker.

"¡ _Mi hija!_" cried Theresa, agony clear in her voice. A few seconds later, a Frenchman came over and took her away with him to the coffin.

"That's Jean-Luc. He's- He _was_ Monette's father." For the first time since they first got outside, Claire looked at Sherry, tears shimmering in her own blue eyes. "Claire…" Sherry was crying too, maybe not directly for Monette but for Wesker's pain. "I think that's the first time her parents have spoken since the wedding. He walked out on her."

"Sounds like my family," Claire said sadly.

"They're gonna die when they open the coffin." Claire groaned, knowing how dramatic foreigners got.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The coffin was open, everyone was hysterical, and Wesker was trying to get his cool back after sobbing during his eulogy. Sherry hugged Wesker around his waist as they stood over the now-open coffin. Theresa had got a grip and Claire neared them to see her remove Monette's wedding band, and give it to Wesker, who slipped it on his pinky: the only one it would fit. She saw Jean-Luc persuade Theresa to go off somewhere with him, and she stepped to the coffin.

"She still looks the same," said Sherry.

"Always," said an upset Wesker. The reception was going on and only a few others lingered outside.

"I came to offer my condolences." The voice was like dry leaves crunching underfoot, and they turned to see an old man, held up on a cane, grinning at them. His face was like a menacing skull, and his white hair reached his shoulders. If Wesker was death itself then this guy was the Father Time.

"Spencer, this is private," said Wesker as calmly as he could, but was seething, his anger clear.

"I only came to apologize." It got quiet. Too quiet for Claire to feel comfortable.

"What did you do?" Wesker asked, finding his voice.

"Well, now look who's jumping to assumptions," Spencer said mockingly. Deep down, Wesker knew he had something to do with Monette awakening and these words he was speaking were deliberate. A smile cracked the face of the man Wesker once respected, but now he was old, fragile, and literally falling apart.

"You decrepit son of a bi-"

"Ah, ah, ah, ah. Now, now Mr. Wesker, calm yourself. Is this what being a father has taught you?" Today, he was dropping hints like there was no tomorrow. Why would Spencer think of his kids? Monette's words came back to Claire at that moment.

"Wesker," Claire said, finally taking her eyes off of Spencer, "They're alive. I know what she was telling me now: that this guy is responsible for the disappearance of your children." The blonde's hands clenched, but Spencer stood unwavering, for he knew Wesker wouldn't hurt him. Fear was too controlling, even for death. There was another problem: if he killed Spencer, how would he get his kids?

"Poor Wesker," said Spencer and he then gave a sickly cough. "Falling in love, and then losing little Miss Tacosita. How unfortunate for you." Giving another cough, Wesker found humor in the old man. Claire personally felt like kicking his cane over, until she realized Wesker found humor in the old man.Eying Wesker, Spencer straightened himself up.

"Look at Spencer!" spat Wesker. "You're practically foaming maggots and yet you try and threaten me at your age." Sherry pursed her lips to keep from smiling, but Spencer noticed.

"Oh, Miss Birkin, how your father would love to see you," the old man said smiling as if he knew something they didn't- and he probably did.

Sherry narrowed her eyes and yelled, "You old bastard, you keep my father's name out of your mouth!" Claire, feeling a surge of protectiveness, pulled the girl close.

"What does William have to do with anything.?" asked Wesker, brows raised. He didn't like the way he said that. Would love to _see_ you. The wording was cryptic.

"Dr. Birkin," Spencer breathed. "A man of great intelligence _and_ stupidity. A fool he was for just up and leaving."

Once again, Sherry had an outburst. "Fuck you!"

"Sherry!" scolded Claire. There was no point of yelling or profanity. If _Wesker_ was too afraid to hurt him, then who could? Spencer's smirk was still there, and it was driving Wesker crazy. That man had everything.

He killed his wife, took his children, and knew something about Birkin he wouldn't tell.

"You sick, evil man," seethed Claire. "You're just sick! You assassinated a woman who _never_ did anything wrong but get the wrong mail, you assassinated Sherry's father for Jesus' sake! Birkin may have been mad, but it was _you_ that drove him to it. But I guess to you that's an accomplishment." They could hear some other people leaving, but this was about Spencer. "If Monette could come back from the grave, I bet money she'd kick your ass."

"We'll see about that," Spencer replied, grinning again.

"Touch my wife -dead or alive- and I will beat you with that damned cane," Wesker threatened.

"Relax, my boy-" he began.

"I'm not your boy!" Wesker snapped. Sherry had pulled away from Claire, and instead now, she gripped her hand tightly. Right now, Wesker wanted to close the coffin badly, for he could tell that Spencer's eyes were wandering to his late wife's face. Her cold face. It was amazing how in death a person's body felt like ice.

"Go away," was almost echoing, for that's how hard Wesker, Claire, and Sherry were thinking it.

"I'll take my leave now," he informed them, seeming to have finally noticed the intentional inhospitality, and Claire noticed the dying French accent in his voice finally. They watched him leave until he had gone around front to his car. Wesker turned. It was time to send down his wife. Time for her to rest. Time to get revenge, but even Wesker stood with uncertainty in Spencer's path.

REVIEW ME! And please remember to always spay and neuter your dogs, in the end, it's for the best.


	14. Intentions

A/N: I apologize from the bottom of my heart for this long wait. I have an excuse though as always: I had to stop taking my anti-depressants and hormone medicine. You see, the anti-depressants made me a total bitch, made me get up to 112 lbs. (everyone, for me, that is big, I could barely fit into ANY of my jeans and have finally gotten back into them), I had no inspiration or time to write at all because my medicine makes me sleep, and my hormone pills made me sick. The pollen and stuff is bad enough, but when something's supposed to be helping and it's not, you can just get sick as hell in Louisiana, and the humidity wasn't helping my allergies. So, I am so sorry, recently I've tried to get back to writing, but when you're thrown off routine for a week or so, it's just tough. This chapter is a little… not good- well compared to what I wrote in English, but forgive me and I hope y'all like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but this story is mine.

What a pleasant surprise to see at breakfast: Ada. Crazy how the woman she despised was in with the man she despised. Claire was still in her pajamas and felt self-conscious about her friend's "love" seeing her so tacky. Ada was silent, and didn't greet Claire, but instead gave her a "look." A look of envy, envy of her freedom.

After the funeral the other day, Sherry had locked herself in her room and Claire hadn't seen Wesker at all, meaning she had no roaming privileges. Since the maid let her out today did that mean she was to see her captor? Claire hoped so, because strangely she'd rather his company than Ada's. Ada Wong. Damn her. Damn her for corrupting Leon's mind.

Damn her for walking into their lives. _Ok, Claire, enough damning._ Claire had herself and Sherry to worry about. Sherry was mourning while Claire had to self examine herself, afraid that she'd thought of this place as home last night. How could this place be home? Ever?

_It is if you're going nuts._

True. And Chris never spoke of Monette, so if she ever saw her brother again, she would kill him. All this time, there was a way to stop Wesker, but would they really have endangered a defenseless woman?

"All right Ada, what now?" So lost in thought, Claire hadn't realized that Wesker was behind her. Ada stared at Claire and then looked back to Wesker. Before Wesker said anything, Claire left the dining room, and as Wesker closed the double doors Claire sat there by the entrance, waiting.

"Wesker, I had a feeling you might have needed me, now that fidelity is no longer an issue."

"Shut up!" snapped Wesker. "_Never_ speak of my wife! Not _you_!" The Asian woman's eyes widened at his anger.

"Calm down, I was only joking. I would _never_ disrespect your wife's memory," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"When I no longer need you, I suggest you run as fast as you little legs will take you." To Ada, Wesker was acting stranger than normal. Oh yeah, Leon told her about Spencer's little visit to see "Albert." Once again, Ada stared at Wesker, trying to better understand his current mood. Despite his clean appearance, something else was going on horrible internally. Maybe it just his wife's death- duh Ada!

"Wesker, I didn't come here to argue with you or tease you about Monette's death." Wesker looked at her as if he had trouble hearing. Little did Wesker know, Ada _believed_ she had it as bad as Monette. She thought of them both as Wesker's prisoners. Did Ada believe Monette _wanted_ to be with him? No.

Not always did Ms. Wong have a grip on situations. Especially now. What could she say to convince Wesker that she wanted to come back and assist him? Not much.

"Wesker, I'm ready for an assignment," she dove right in. He raised a blond brow, but Ada knew he was thinking.

"Ms. Wong, at the moment, I am in no need of assistance."

"Oh, I believe you are," she pressed, her voice low and somewhat seductive. But this wouldn't work on him. Hell, it was worth a try though. "Come on. Girl's gotta pay her bills."

"You wish to assist me? Then get out of here. This battle has no use for traitors." What battle? Was he referring to Spencer? He had to be, but how could he expect to beat the man who condemned all the souls of Raccoon City? Leon was right; Wesker had finally lost the last bits of sanity he had retained.

This was impossible. Wesker would never trust her when the welfare of his kids was at stake. Dammit, she needed a plan. At least _some_ way of keeping an eye on Wesker. _Any_ way.

The ambience of the house screamed widower, which was what Wesker now was. Claire was even sad. And so was- Sherry!

"Wesker, do you need some help with Sherry?" she asked, her calm composure now turned desperate, but she didn't care.

"I have a maid for that," he stated flatly. "Why don't you enjoy your time off?" Ada folded her arms over her chest and sighed, realizing that she was getting nowhere.

"Fine," she gave in. "I tried to help take some of the stress off of your back, but if you don't want my help then I won't offer you any."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you sure this'll work?" asked an unsure Leon. He looked at his fellow conspirator. The blond man sat behind a desk looking quite confident.

"Just follow my orders. Of course it'll work." Leon couldn't stand the sight of him. He was the man he had a hand in destroying, but looking into his eyes he saw the painful memories of Sherry Birkin.

"So we won't really need Ada's help?" Leon felt bad, sending Ada to Wesker when she'd deserved her time away from the monster.

"I doubt she had any effect on Albert whatsoever," commented Birkin. This would all be such a surprise. Even the almighty Wesker would have a heart attack to see what Leon was seeing. This wouldn't be a battle of power, but a battle of wits.

"I suggest that you don't underestimate Ada," said Leon defensively.

"On a first-name basis are we?" Birkin chuckled. "I should have expected the whore of Babylon to gain a few fans."

"Ada is _not_ a whore!" snapped Leon. The subject was rather touchy, but it was time for him to learn no one would tip-toe around the fact that he was blind to Ada's ways.

"I think," said Birkin leaning back, "A woman who sells her body is considered a whore. God, Kennedy, when will you learn? Learn that, that bitch is holding you down!"

"Just as misogynistic as Wesker huh?"

"Wesker, Wesker, Wesker." A thoughtful expression crossed the blonde's face as he thought of the man no one would ever understand. The man was just an enigma, and so was the reason he hired Ada. Ada, a woman no being could trust with a _cookie_. She'd poison anything and everything, sabotage someone's life, and feel no remorse.

No one exactly knew her history, her motives were clear: help the Organization, but her reasons for getting involved with Wesker were murky.

"Just watch your back," warned Birkin. Leon sighed and nodded. Even if he did care for Ada, he knew they could never be together. They could, but he would never trust her. "We need to send Wesker the note. The quicker he arrives, the better. I'm no longer the one for long drawn out games… When it comes to him. I want it all to hit him so fast his head spins. I want him confused. I want him to pay."

Review please! Hope you liked it. Well, it's late and I'm gonna TRY and start on the next chapter.


	15. Ghosts

A/N: I am just so happy right now! I got a job and I have had NO trouble whatsoever writing anything so this my friends is gonna be a LONG fan fiction.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, how sad, but hey, I still got this.

For once, he was anxious. He was diving into trouble without any backup, only bringing a few guns. Why was he walking right into a trap? Because he was Albert "bloody" Wesker. He was a god, and he could hold his own.

Trap or no, that note he'd found upon awakening said where his children were. Yes, he was going to that underground lab. Yes, he was confident. Yes, he was dragging Claire with him. Even if she didn't want to go -and she did- Wesker wasn't handing her a gun.

Getting in would be no problem anyway, if Spencer told them where to come then he was just going to roll out the red carpet without a doubt. The only worry was what Spencer had in store. What would he find?

"Not used to being on the other end of blackmail are you?" asked Claire, watching Wesker load a clip into a gun.

"I got plenty of blackmailers targeting me." He put his gun in his holster and turned to Claire. "Monette was my Achilles' Heel, and everyone knew that. It's not the first time Oswell has tried to get me." Claire sighed and fidgeted in the desk chair. Unable to believe he allowed her in his room, she looked around for about the tenth time.

It was so… not him. Sure he was up on a pedestal tall as the Eiffel Tower, but he must have thought he was royalty. Her eyes settled on the canopy bed, it looked so soft and comfortable. Her bed was soft, but he probably had the best bed in the house. Maybe she should stop thinking about his bed.

She couldn't stop thinking about how well he had taken care of her. He was acting more like he was an innkeeper than a kidnapper.

"Redfield?" Wesker was standing at his door, waiting for Claire to leave first. As they left, Claire prayed that Sherry stayed in her room. As Claire heard birds singing and felt the much missed sun on her skin she looked around, finding she had no idea where she was. Wesker of course, was smart enough to make her ride blindfolded and handcuffed.

Just as before when they went to the hospital, she allowed him to take the precautions. It felt ok to her though as she felt the car start and pull out. The whole ride, not a word was said, which bothered Claire because it was quite a long drive. She was afraid, afraid that Wesker had underestimated the situation, but if you had kids then understanding his actions would be easy. Guilt for not believing his wife was probably wracking him horribly.

The car stopped, and Claire heard Wesker get out. Taking deep breaths, she prepared herself for the worst. Anything could happen in there. After Wesker let her out and removed the blindfold and the handcuffs, Claire stretched and saw that they were in the middle of nowhere. The woods were dead of any noise, no crickets, no birds, no nothing.

Where the hell was the facility? Then she saw him staring at something behind her, and she turned to see- oh great, another mansion. How had she missed it?

_Maybe because impending doom could lie behind those doors._

"Mr. Wesker, we've been waiting for you. So glad you could make it," said a man who was obviously a butler. Well, at least impending doom was scratched off the list of possible greetings. For a while, they stared at the old man who seemed so welcoming and genuine. "Well, come on in," he said, anxiously gesturing them inside. Once inside, Claire walked close to Wesker as they followed the butler to an elevator by the stairway.

"I see Spencer hasn't lost his obsession with the old estate," said Wesker, stepping into the elevator. Everything but the elevator was just like the old mansion back in Raccoon City Forest.

"Oh yes, Mr. Spencer is a fan of Trevor's work," said the butler. While Wesker and Claire stood in the elevator, the butler smiled from the outside." I believe the bottom button is what you want to press," he informed them. Why wasn't he coming? Oh well, after looking at the many buttons Wesker saw one on its own row and pressed it.

The doors closed, and Claire looked up to Wesker. "Brace yourself," he warned, "Half a mile underground in just a few minutes can be quite unnerving."

"Wha-" Her stomach felt like it had jumped up into her throat. For a few minutes she felt like she was going to pass out, then a minute later, everything settled; they were there. When they stepped out of the elevator, Claire felt like kissing the ground. Before even going anywhere, Wesker knew this was a maze.

Not wanting them to get separated, he reached back for Claire's hand. Nothing. "Redfield?" he asked, turning to find she was nowhere in sight. There was a corridor to his left, maybe- no, she wouldn't just walk off into a place like this alone. "Claire?!"

"Hey, Wesker." The voice was so familiar. So mocking.

"Birkin?" Wesker looked at his old lab partner in disbelief. Him being alive wasn't unexpected, but him escaping the American Government was impossible.

"Are you coming or not?" asked an impatient Birkin before walking off. No. Not that way. Instead of the left corridor, he took the one straight ahead, hoping he would run across Claire, because after this, he still needed her.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Let me outta here!" Claire banged her fists against the steel door in a futile attempt to escape. She'd yelled herself breathless and now took shallow breaths. What was that thing that took her called again? Oh yeah, a Hunter.

It must have been a new breed. That thing was so fast, Wesker didn't notice it, and Claire was too shocked to scream, it had knocked the air out of her. The room was dim and damp. Claire had chills as she spotted and old plate with maggots crawling around. How the hell had flies gotten there?

"Wesker, you had better hurry," she said to herself. Why was the room so dark? Wait, after the Hunter got her she passed out, the damn thing hit her head on the wall. Finally, she saw the barred window and- the moon? If Wesker hadn't found anything yet then was he in trouble?

It was only five or so when she stole a glance at the grandfather clock in the mansion. Great, her head was all messed up and she didn't even remember waking up, just the urge to escape. Desperately hoping nothing was seriously wrong, she felt across her scalp and felt a rather large knot on the left side of her head. Sighing, she looked to the far end of the "dungeon" and found it was too dark to see anything. Did she hear- breathing!

"Hey!" she called. "Is anyone over there?" Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer to the darkness, her skin white with the light of the moon on her. "Hello?" Then she heard rattling and saw what she never wished to see again.

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After three hours of trying to avoid Birkin, which should have lead him to Claire, Wesker had found a room. A bedroom. He'd found no surprises or creatures to fight, just turn, after turn, after turn. Everything in the room was dark red. The carpet, the bed, the walls, the bed- someone was in the bed!

Pulling his knife out, he neared the canopy bed, ready for a struggle. The person stirred and sat up, looking Wesker in the eyes through his shades. Oh no. Not those eyes. This had to have been a joke.

"Wesker?" asked the woman, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Suddenly, his knife dropped from his hands, his heart raced, and the sound of the woman's breathing was enhanced. This was the moment when even a man's heart would stop.

I'll have the next chapter up soon, all you have to do is review please!


	16. When He Grew Up

A/N: Alright, 6 hours of nothing. No one got drunk and I'm just now realizing my Popee has gray eyes and he just found out today's his birthday. What kind of granddaughter am I people and being old sucks huh? Well, Happy Mother's Day to all females reading this even if you're not a mom cause hey, aren't we always playing mother to someone anyway?

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but this is all me.

"I knew, in my heart you'd come for me." She was smiling, she was happy, and she was back in Wesker's arms. "Baby, I knew you'd come back to me!" In shock, Wesker stared down into her eyes, those almost black eyes.

"Monette, how are you-" With a bit more strength than she'd ever had, Monette pulled her husband down to her, and pressed her lips to his. Oh God, how he'd missed her. Without caring how she was back, he plunged his tongue into her mouth and massaged it against hers. He anxiously tried to untie the white terry cloth robe, and she pulled away.

"I'd thought you'd forgotten about me already," she said sadly.

"No, no dear heart, never."

"You never listened to me though. Never." Wesker's brow furrowed as confusion hit him like a ton of bricks. "If you would have listened," she continued, her voice harsh and unforgiving, "Maybe Spencer wouldn't have killed me!"

"You're not my wife," he said, backing away from the imposter. "My wife is dead."

"And who's fault is that?" The sound of her chuckling made Wesker turn away. Who would want to use her image like this? Well, it was obvious it was Spencer, but it was sick even for him.

"Maybe, she just never mattered so much to you." That voice was his! Wesker turned quickly, only to be jabbed with a syringe. "We'll see what you're really made of," said the thing, smiling.

"What-"

"What am I?" The other him asked. "Well, according to you, I'm foaming maggots."

"Spencer?" Wesker's legs felt wobbly and he leaned against the wall. "What did you do to me?!" His heart felt like it was about to burst. What the hell had Spencer done?

"Right before his eyes, Spencer began changing, his features became more of what he looked like when he was young. His dark, brown hair was back, the wrinkles were gone, and he looked completely confident in his abilities.

"Not so great now are you?" asked the smiling Spencer. "What I just injected into your veins was a tranquilizer. I designed it to temporarily rid you of those damn powers of yours." Wesker couldn't believe this.

"Whe- Where are my kids?!"

"Oh, about your children, _you_ were right. They're dead. You see, I told Monette I had them so she would tell you to come get them. And she did. Sorry that your little _se__ñ__ora _was wrong. I truly am sorry. Sorry it wasn't me that killed them. The selfishness of your wife killed them. And now, she's about to kill you."

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Claire had situated herself in the corner, far from the Licker she'd discovered. It had calmed down and now breathed raggedly in the dark end of the prison. Then Claire heard- people! They were laughing and opening the door. But for what?

"Get in there!" yelled one of the men, throwing a man into the room and closing the door. The man crawled over to the wall and leaned against it.

"Redfield," he croaked.

"Oh my God! Wesker?" Unbelievably, Claire ran to him, looking over his beaten and bloody body. His shades were gone, and his eyes were blue. "You're-"

"Mortal," he finished.

"Did you find your children?"

"Spencer lied. They're dead." He sucked his tongue in pain. Even if he was Wesker, it was wrong to take away his strength, and kick him while he was down.

"We have to get out of here." On the other side of the room, the creature could smell Wesker's blood, and it became restless. Claire could hear it yanking at its chains. "That Licker isn't going to stay chained up. Do you have _any_ strength?"

"Ms. Redfield," he was breathing hard, and speaking barely above a whisper, "I thought you were smart. The human guards didn't do this to me. Spencer did. He's become some shape-shifter. I thought he was Monette." Out of all the weird things she'd seen, a shape-shifter wasn't one of them. Great, a way to make her paranoid. Looking down, she saw his hand over his stomach.

"Let me see." She gently took his hand into hers and removed it from his stomach. Lifting his shirt, she found a gash that was still bleeding. Abs lay underneath the smooth, pale skin and the gash marred the god-like body. The moonlight gave her little light, but enough to see the scar from that day he gave his old life for a new one.

Seeing that she was staring, he lowered his shirt and laid his head back. A bruise was on his left cheek, a few cuts on his right one. Blood had dried under his nose, and Claire had felt bad for him. Yes, felt bad for Wesker. She also knew that this was probably the end of the line.

"Wesker," breathed Claire. "How are we gonna get outta here?"

"Reach into my pocket. The right one." Hesitantly, she followed orders and pulled out a lock pick. "The door's steel, but the lock's primal." After about an hour, Claire had managed to open the door, but where were the guards? Spencer was horrible, daring to take form of the two people Wesker cared about: Monette and Birkin.

So what if Birkin had gone overboard and gotten himself killed, he was Wesker's partner. What a mess. Claire was scared, and life was something she probably wouldn't have by the end of the night. There were no guards around the grounds at all as Claire and Wesker made their way to his car. Claire didn't even try to get into the driver's seat, but instead watched from the passenger's seat.

"This isn't right," Claire whispered. As if it pained him, Wesker started the engine and started off down the path leading from the woods. "Wesker-"

"They have Sherry."

"What? Well, why don't we go back?"

"Because, Ms. Redfield," he said more strongly, "They didn't bring her here, and if they did I am in no condition to help her, you, or myself for that matter." A turn in the path was coming up, but Wesker wasn't slowing down.

"Didn't we come from that turn?" Claire asked. They were headed for the road straight ahead with a "Danger" sign in front of it.

"They've removed the brake fluid, and then there's this." Wesker turned the wheel, and nothing happened. Bam! They hit the sign, the car still going pretty fast. Wesker unbuckled his belt, and Claire did the same. "Get ready to jump."

"You're in no condition to-"

"Get ready!" he snarled. Claire saw bridge posts ahead and her eyes were wide. When the car's half way to the other side, jump." Everything slowed down, and Claire saw the trees going past them, if they hadn't been there, they could have jumped. "Try to hit the river," Wesker warned.

"If I don't?" she asked fearfully.

"You'll hit the rocks." They held onto their door handles and their hearts raced as they neared the cut-off bridge. The car went through the posts and soared through the air and as soon as Claire saw Wesker jump from the car, so did she. Her body was falling, plummeting, she tensed every muscle, held her nose, and then she hit the water, Wesker not far from her.

A/N: Aw! Don't y'all hate when I do that? Don't worry, I'm working on the next chapter people. And hey, maybe things will start heating up between Wesker and Claire. You won't know though until I update. How can Wesker's weakened state affect them? Review and stay tuned, you'll find out.


	17. Need

A/N: Alright then, business first: MariFM I apologize for the long wait. I was tired and now I am finally updating so please forgive me. I have also found that I know how I want to end this fic. That leaves YOU (everyone reading) a choice: Make a sequel, or not. So send in the reviews (that I have NOT been receiving) and tell me whether or not you want that to happen.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I promise this is all mine.

Icy. So cold. Who knew it would sting so bad? Claire's muscles ached, but she knew she had to come up for air. Taking that first breath meant she'd survived.

She somehow missed the car impacting with the wall of rock. She swam to the wall that had thrown them off and stood up shakily on the rocks. To her right she saw Wesker had thrown himself over some rocks and looked worse than before if possible.

"Wesker!" called Claire. Should she run for it? Her chance for freedom was now. _And go where Redfield? _She didn't even know where _here_ was.

Sighing, she made her way over to Wesker, who was trying to stand up, failing miserably. Wesker looked to the woman helping him, confusion written across his handsome face. Taking her hand, they stumbled together for what felt like forever.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After getting back into the woods, Wesker and Claire had found a group of teens camping. What luck? After being given some clothes and a lift to a hotel, Wesker and Claire were settled in. The hotel was a bit fancy, but not too grand.

After Wesker threw himself in the shower, Claire did the same. When she came out in her robe, Wesker was sleeping soundly. This was quite a sight. Her eyes wandered to a phone sitting on the nightstand, by Wesker's bed, the only bed.

Poor Wesker, he was so helpless and beaten, he'd thrown the soggy money at the man at the front desk. The man threw them in a one bed room. What to do? Call Chris? Claire crept to the nightstand trying not to disturb Wesker's sleep.

His chest heaved with every breath. Just as she reached for the phone, Wesker's hand grabbed her wrist, and she looked into his icy, blue eyes.

"Now, Ms. Redfield, what would you be planning on doing? Calling Chris? Well, let me tell you why you can't. In my weakened state, the Government will get me. Yes, the Government. Do you know that what they will do will be worse than death? Another thing, now this is _very_ important: I'm the _only_ one who can save Ms. Birkin." He had a point.

"Wesker," she said, her voice shaky, "I just wanna go home. Tears escaped her eyes, and the exhausted Wesker lied back releasing her wrist.

"Lie down," he commanded. As she stared down at the floor, Wesker added, "In the bed." Her heart skipped a few beats, and slowly, she made her way to the other side of the bed and laid beside him. She wasn't used to lying on her back when she was asleep, but Wesker was. She didn't want to see him.

Claire could feel Wesker warmth, but she wished his presence could have been more subtle. Eventually though, it felt as if he wasn't even there.

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Claire was awake, but she kept her eyes closed, for she knew she was on her side, facing Wesker. It wasn't morning; she felt no warmth from any light. What time was it? After failing to go back to sleep, Claire opened her eyes and there was Wesker, still on his back, eyes closed. Peeking over him at the alarm clock on the nightstand she saw it was only 1:00 AM

"Oh God," she murmured to herself. Sitting up on her elbow, she stared at him. Right now, Wesker was so vulnerable, so exhausted, so handsome. There was no denying that anymore. For some reason, he could never seem ugly.

Inside he may have been ugly, but his outside could _never_ reflect his soul. His lips were so thin, yet in a way kissing them was a dark fantasy. He looked like a real man. A primal instinct within a woman would cause her to fall for his looks, strength, income. In the caveman era he would have been top dog.

"Ms. Redfield, I hope you're enjoying the view," Wesker said, eyes still closed. "Care to explain what you're doing?" He turned his head to hers and opened his eyes. Claire's sight had finally adjusted to the dark, and she saw Wesker's confused look. It seemed that without his power, he was so much more human. He was more emotional, if you will.

"Is it a crime to look at someone?" she asked boldly.

"When exactly did you acquire such an attitude?" He had turned over, and now looked like a regular man.

"I could turn you in right now. I could even kill you." She didn't sound threatening, just thoughtful. She was scaring herself when she came to realize she was becoming less and less afraid of him over time.

"You could dear heart, but you won't now will you? If in return for your _mercy_ you wish to earn my gratitude you will be disappointed."

"I'm used to it by now." She was very used to him too. Used to his mood swings and his attitude. "Nothing you plan on doing will surprise me."

"_Nothing?" _he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh please. I've found out you had a wife, kids, I've even seen you cry. Nothing can outrage me now. It was true that the weeks felt like years. Frightening that she knew him in any way.

"Dear heart, I could torture you easily. I could make you want to hurt yourself with the one emotion which drives even the sanest mad."

"I've been living with you. I couldn't get crazier." Hopefully, he wasn't talking about the emotion she thought he was talking about. No. Another scary thought.

"Dear heart, I could make you crazier than a love-struck poet. You seem to forget-"

"You know what? Don't call me 'dear heart' anymore!" she exploded. "Why do you insist on calling me that?"

"Would you prefer your generation's choice of words? Babe, chick, bitch?" Was he being funny? This was an attempt at humor. He was being playful with his enemy's sister. A smile crossed his handsome face, and Claire almost died. "Is that surprise I see? Dear… heart?"

"What is wrong with you? Are you sure Spencer didn't shoot you up with crack or something?"

"What are your thoughts about me now Redfield?" He moved closer to her and Claire's heart was thumping loudly. God, he was trying to use her wasn't he? That son of a bitch. Two of course could play that game. The question was: Who would win?

In this game of cat and mouse who would be caught? Wesker was crazy, possessive, and Claire knew that if she gave herself to him that it would only awaken that side of him. Looking back at his stories of Monette she sensed his jealously of how he spoke of her male friends. Could she do this? Could she really just _pretend_ to want him? Yes.

Problem: He was pretending too. Time to get smart. She knew his weak points. Now all she needed to do was take action and find out what it was that Wesker needed.

A/N: YAY! I can go do whatever the hell it was I wanted to do. I hope y'all liked it so REVIEW PLEASE. It's heartbreaking when I have no mail. Of course, I should practice what I preach. Anyway, the whole sequel thing mentioned up top… Yeah. Review me about that one. Well, in 4 hours I'm off to work from 6PM till 10PM so I'll just chill until then. LOVE Y'ALL!


	18. Mine

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Capcom's, just this fic… which I assure you isn't theirs.

There was always something about Wesker that scared Chris: he was possessive. _His_ team, _his_ men. Now Claire was _his_ prisoner. Wesker was persuasive, and no doubt taking better care of his sister than Chris himself could have. What if Claire had somehow fallen for him without realizing it?

Captain Wesker. Mr. Smooth. Jill and even Rebecca had crushes on him. How unfortunate to love a psycho. Poor Monette.

Last Chris heard of Monette was that she'd died a few days ago. Chris had met her many times, but had never told a soul about her. She was a pretty little thing, she seemed to have barely been out of high school. The story of how she and Wesker met was pretty amazing. Everyone would hate him if they found out he knew about Monette.

-----------------------------------------------------1998-----------------------------------------------------

It was late in the afternoon and Wesker had taken off that day. Chris made his way up to the front door of Wesker's home. It looked nice, a little cozy. That didn't seem like Wesker. After knocking on the door twice, he heard… a woman?

"Hold up! _Mierda, Americanos-"_ she stopped talking as she opened the door to see Chris standing there. "Oops." He was from S.T.A.R.S. Oh great, she'd been seen. "Um, Wesker's not here," she said, pulling down her black tank top.

Chris noticed her stomach was a little pudgy and he almost dropped his jaw. "Oh, it's the right house?" he asked shocked.

"Eh, I can't live here?" She was smiling playfully at him, and Chris gave an uncertain smile as he saw a wedding band on her ring finger.

"Who the hell are you?" he suddenly asked.

"Come in," she ordered. Chris followed her inside and shut the door behind him. Without her having to say so, he followed her to the loveseat and she sighed. "I've been seen eh? What I'm about to say- never repeat it. Okay?"

Chris nodded, and breathed deeply. "I'm Wesker's wife. I've been his wife since his tour in South America. Well, his wife after he went AWOL. I'm the girl that saved his life." He'd told Chris about that.

He just never said, "By the way, I married her and she's having my kid."

"So, what's your name?" Chris asked.

"I am Monette Esmeralda LaCour-Wesker. Four names," she said grinning. "You must be Chris Redfield. Wesker talks about you _all_ the time."

"Nice things I hope." The girl was so warm and inviting. Why had Wesker kept her a secret? He'd find out. "Why don't we know of you?"

"Protection. You see, back in New York, my husband was every criminals' favorite cop to hate." Chris nodded in understanding. "So I don't exist 'kay?"

"Secrets safe with me."

"_Esta bien. Gracias Se__ñ__or Redfield."_

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

That was only a year ago. One year. Oh no, if Monette was dead, then there was no doubt that Claire knew. Of course Wesker would have a funeral! What if Claire hated him now?

If one thing was certain it was that Claire probably _did_ hate him. How wonderful! Now his old captain would look like Saint Wesker in Claire's eyes! The amount of time it took for Stockholm to kick in was 72 hours. Holy hell.

Wesker was feeding her, of course he was putting clothes on her back -hopefully-, he was giving her a place to stay, and that's all it took. His damn charm was what would tip the scale.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed, slamming down his mug of coffee. Just as the glass broke, flying outward and the coffee splashed everywhere, Jill walked in.

"Chris?" she asked hesitantly. He wasn't even concerned with the fact that hot coffee was streaming off his desk onto his blue carpet. "Chris, Rebecca's closer to duplicating the encryption." Chris nodded, the only thing he could do. For a while now, Rebecca had been attempting to copy the encryption level of the disk.

Chris couldn't destroy the disk. Not until Wesker was out of their lives for good. That little thing was something Chris could fall back on.. After giving Wesker only half of what he wanted he would just lock him and his loved ones in a maximum security prison's basement.

"Oh, and Barry's here. Wesker sent him a tape." At those words, Chris tore past Jill and he ran as fast as he could into the living room, surprising all of his friends.

"Jesus, Chris!" shouted Barry who hadn't even sat down. Clutching his chest, he sat on the couch, still shaking from fright. "If you scare all of us to death how are you gonna get Claire back?"

"I'm sorry you guys," Chris said, looking around at the group. Leon had been asleep on the other couch, but was now wide-eyed, trying to slow his breathing. Billy went back to coaching Rebecca as she tried to get back into the encryption. Chris eyed the remote in Barry's hand, looking quite mad. "Is the tape in the VCR?"

"Yeah," said Barry. Concern for Chris was clear on his face. He looked at Jill, who had just walked into the room, giving her a questioning look.

"Barry, turn it on," urged Chris. "Do it!" he yelled after only receiving strange looks. Not wanting to excite him any further, Barry pressed play, rewarding them with a smiling Wesker.

"Hello, Barry. I bet Chris is standing there too." Jill watched Chris clench his fists, and feared he'd cut his palms with his fingernails. "I suppose you expected to see your beautiful sister. Well, she's downstairs right now with Ms. Birkin." Leon was now standing too, running his fingers through his messy, brown hair. "You know what I want Chris. Just hand over the disk and I'll give you back your sister."

Something in the way Wesker spoke told them he was up to something bigger. "I doubt that Ms. Redfield would want to go back with you, assuming that you're still living in that house on your grandparents' farm." Jill looked around the living room. It was indeed his grandparents' house, but Wesker shouldn't have criticized Chris' home that way. "This room I'm in, it's Claire's," he said using a remote to move the camera around to show them the room.

Jill covered her mouth to keep from saying, "It's beautiful." Of course she was sure she wasn't the only one awestruck.

"So," said Wesker, after rubbing salt in Chris' wounds, "How do _you_ think Claire's enjoying this lifestyle? You can ask her… as soon as you bring me the disk." The screen went blank, and everyone but Chris looked away.

"He gave me an address," said Barry, breaking the silence. Not wanting him to inflict any pain upon himself, Jill grabbed Chris' hands into her own.

"Chris," soothed Jill, looking into his eyes, "Calm down. We'll get Claire back."

"But he's right," Chris admitted. Anger had left him, allowing a look of hopelessness to take its place. "Jill, what have I done for Claire?"

"Chris!" she yelled, her grip on his hands tightening. "Wesker may have kidnapped Claire, he may be giving her things only the rich and famous have seen, but he can't give her love!"

"Jill," he said softly, "You know as well as I, that he _can_ give her some kind of love. Real or not." Jill looked away, knowing that he spoke the truth. Claire was in a vulnerable state and looking back at old cases involving kidnappings, Jill knew there would be something shocking going on when they arrived. Even though Chris was her number one concern, Leon was looking quite suspicious. He sat on Chris' couch biting his nails nervously, watching Rebecca press buttons.

"You aright man?" Billy asked. He'd obviously felt Leon's stare and now addressed him.

"Yeah," Leon answered. "You're making two fake ones right?"

"Yep." Rebecca turned to Leon, looking happy; they were almost done. "Wesker will expect for us to bring two, so we'll bring two. Only both will be fake." Leon thought Claire was dead, but thanks to Wesker's quick thinking, he knew it wasn't true. Soon, he'd have back Claire, and then all he'd have to do would be to steal the real disk and trade it for Sherry. After that, Spencer would be gone from his life, giving him a chance to start over.

A/N: Finally I updated. Go me. I'm not really feeling the love anyway. I crave reviews people. At least show me a little love please. You add me or my story onto your favorites and no feedback? Kinda hurts my self-esteem. Well, all I gotta say is the next chapter is a tough one.


	19. Unknown

A/N: I'm so lucky. I get to stay home and update! One of my bosses called and asked could I come in to work since it's the first of the month and you know how busy stores are today! Thank God I don't know how to direct her right down the street to my house cause I never look at signs. So here I am on my day off, working on chapters.

Disclaimer: Ok, ok, it's not mine. The fact that I'm too afraid to play RE 1 Remake alone is proof enough. Yes people, I'm afraid of many things.

A day since that night at the hotel. Claire hadn't spoken to Wesker since. Dinner was quiet, and now Claire sat in her room, wishing Sherry was there. Months of searching, and Sherry was ripped out of her life again. Claire looked to the double doors and sighed.

Wesker's strength was returning slowly, but it was returning. Claire made her way to the other wing, greeting Emily as she passed her. Standing at Wesker's door she took a deep breath.

"Wesker!" she called. The door opened slightly and Claire took another deep breath before opening the door the rest of the way.

There he was, standing there before her, oblivious as to why she had come to him so late.

"Ms. Redfield, what may I do for you?" he asked, adjusting his shades. What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do?

"Wesker, I just want to go home." Well, that was true.

"As long as your brother holds up his end of the bargain-"

"You"re going to kill him anyway!" she interrupted. "Just let him go. Please." Her pleading had caused Wesker to close his door and now Claire was against it. His face was hovering over hers, and he showed no trace of sympathy or humor.

"Ms. Redfield, I can't do that."

"Yes, you can!" Genuine fear was written upon her face, but Wesker's was not faltering. He only stared down at her, his expression unreadable as usual. "Wesker, I saved your life. Please, spare my brother's." His eyes wandered down, and he brought a hand to Claire's bare shoulder, his thumb running over the thin strap of her red tank top.

Claire inhaled, and she could smell his cologne. God, he smelled good. When he cupped her face in his hands she noticed he wore no gloves. At least she could enjoy the warmth of his hands and not the cold sleek leather normally felt when he touched her. Unsure of what to do, she grabbed his wrists, and tried to look past his shades into his eyes.

"Chris wouldn"t like this," she breathed. Her eyes were half lidded and she could almost feel his lips on hers. She knew Wesker was counting on Chris' disapproval, but Chris didn't have to know about this did he? When two were playing such a dangerous game how could either come out unscathed? Neither were moving.

Both were waiting for the other. What a game. Even though this wasn't real, the thought of her lips against his was enough get to any woman. She let go of his wrists and looked away, only to have Wesker grab her chin and force her to look at him. His eyes were soon ripped away from hers and now he stared down at her hands as they lifted her tank top up.

"Wesker," she whispered. The hand that had been playing with her strap now wandered down to her own hand, assisting with the removal of her top. Claire's mind was foggy. Why was she doing this again? Wesker had asked her something, but what was it? "Yes," she mumbled to every question he asked.

What was she agreeing to? As he helped her strip down to her underwear, her ears rang with things Chris would be saying. Accusations of betrayal that would make her cry came into her head. Did Chris even want her back? Where was he?

Since Wesker had taken her, she hadn't heard from her brother. But Wesker was here. Wesker was taking care of her. Why was she thinking that?

_Maybe because he _**is **_taking care of you._

"Wesker," she breathed, "I... Why did you... You've been so good to me." Instead of answering, he placed his index finger on her lips, quieting her. Confusion settled over her and when it was gone, she found she was on her back in Wesker's bed. His shades were gone, thank God his eyes were still blue. As he kissed her stomach softly Claire placed her hands on his shoulders, finding he'd removed his shirt. 

Everything was happening too fast. Wesker's kisses were getting lower, but Claire had to stop him.

"No," she whispered. Coming up, he stared into her eyes as if he could read her mind. At least one of them knew what she was thinking. "This is happening so fast." This was quite a moment for Wesker: Claire wanted to relish every moment of this.

A Redfield in his bed. Eagerly wanting for him to take her, Claire pulled Wesker's face closer to hers by the nape of his neck. She wanted to kiss him. Needed to kiss him. A kiss was symbolic and if he kissed her, she knew she'd make it through the night.

"Dear heart," he whispered, his breath tickling her lips, "What do you want?"

"I have a choice?" she asked, her forehead wrinkling as she frowned. He smiled, and Claire melted. God he was so handsome. Refusing to say what she wanted aloud, -or too ashamed- she turned her head away. Not wanting to give her everything she wanted yet, Wesker kissed her neck, and Claire gasped.

Claire hadn't been kissed like that in a long time. Pressing her body into his, she felt him grab her legs underneath her knees. She wanted to beg him, to able to request anything, but she still couldn't remember why she was doing this. Her fingers were entangled in Wesker's now messy, blond hair. She couldn't take it anymore. The fact that she was soon about to have sex with Wesker didn't seem to register to her brain.

Of course it didn't matter to Wesker. Being part monster and part man, she knew both sides went for and got what they wanted. He stopped. He was looking into her eyes and once she took a good look into his she saw tears. Was he going to cry?

If so, Claire didn't want to have to witness it again. She kissed him, and could feel his surprise. It was better than any dark fantasy ever concocted in any teenager's mind. Damn, he was a great kisser. This was a dark day.

A day to be marked in the minds of those who thought there would never be such an apocalyptic event during this feud of the Redfield siblings and S.T.A.R.S. against Wesker. This was the end of the battle, but it would spark an even greater war.

A/N: There's a reason I didn't get descriptive, if I did the rating would have left T. I couldn't go that far into detail without turning Wesker into a love bunny. Well, the next chapter is the last battle so everyone saddle up! Did that make sense? Oh well, review!

P.S. I _might_ update tonight.


	20. Dawn

A/N: How do I do it? They called me in today again on my day off, but I called my boss and she said I didn't have to go in! Since it's raining there aren't going to be that many customers… I hope. Even though she said I'm off, I feel bad for not going in. A dose of Eden should help!

Disclaimer: Hand on a stack of Bibles, I don't own RE, my other hand on another stack of Bibles, I own the words below.

Disbelief. Misplaced trust in self. Regret. Confusion. All feelings that wracked Albert Wesker.

He should be proud. Last night he did something Chris never dreamed would happen. Albert Wesker had Claire _Redfield_. He made her want him. Made her need him. Need him on a deeper level.

To most youth today, sex meant nothing, but it meant a great deal in Claire and Wesker's case. The fact that they had sex, proved S.T.A.R.S. wrong. If "Big Bad" Wesker could have "Goody Two-Shoes" Claire, it would pretty much impact the world. They would see this like they had defied gravity. Looking behind him, he saw Claire, just lying there.

_That's right dear heart. Sleep._

Did he really intend to use her this way? Did it matter? All that mattered was that he had power over her in a way. He heard her mumble in her sleep, and watched her reach for him. From an earlier glimpse in the mirror, he saw that her eyes were the ones he had frightened her with. They weren't the blue that Claire had fallen in love with, or the ones that mesmerized Claire. Other than Monette, Claire was the only one that had seen him cry. Well, not counting his big sister, or his big brother, his mom, or his dad, Monette and Claire were the only ones that saw the pitiable sight. More than anything he wished he could lie down and cuddle with Claire after that night. 

A smirk tugged at his lips, but he fought it off. Who knew Claire was a pro like that? Chris would be there soon, so he'd wait until then to show his gratitude to her. How should that go? Let Emily show them to the kitchen?

Chris would die if he saw his sister giving it up to his enemy on the kitchen counter. Nah! It was a bit_ too_ tasteless. That would hurt Claire's image more than Chris. Here, in this room, so then he could rub it in that such an activity took place here before.

Gently, he caressed Claire's face, and saw her smile. "Sorry dear heart, but there are casualties in war."

"Wesker," she mumbled. She was dreaming, dreaming of him. Oh no, déjà vu. This was what he'd do to Monette while she slept, mumbling his name. Claire needed to get out of there.

Right now, killing Chris wasn't his main focus. After he got what he needed from the disk, he would find Chris and kill him. Of course, finding out what had transpired in this room would probably make Chris come after him. Claire turned her face into Wesker's hand and he decided to lie back down. As soon he got under the sheets, Claire grabbed onto him, her smile still present.

Claire thought she had Wesker in her pocket, but the tables had turned, and now she obviously wanted more. And more she'd get too, as soon as the "Three Musketeers," -Chris Jill, and Barry- showed up.

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Jill held Chris' hand tightly, and she didn't take her eyes off of him. "Jill," he said barely above a whisper, "What if-"

"Man, stop saying that!" Leon was now holding the back of Chris' chair in the van. He didn't want to think that the woman he cared about was hooking up with one of the most evil bastard in the world. Well, the most evil bastard in the world next to Spencer. "Don't insult Claire that way!"

"Chris," said Billy who sat in the back by Rebecca, "You gotta get pumped up before battle. You can't sit here and feel bad. It'll get us all killed. If Wesker does have Claire in that way, do what any other big brother would do if he caught some bastard taking advantage of his little sister: Beat his ass.

"Uh, guys, this doesn't look like a facility," Barry called from the front. Nine hours of driving and they were at a mansion? No way Wesker wanted to fight at his home. Or did Wesker even care about revenge right now? No, it was just the disk.

Barry stayed outside the gate in the van, just to be able to drive off in a hurry. Inside though, everyone knew he just didn't want Wesker to see him. Billy and Rebecca sat in the back seat, a laptop in Rebecca's lap, while they readied to listen to Wesker and the others' confrontation. The front gate had opened before Chris could even press the buzzer. Jill became highly alert, seeming to be checking out every tree. Leon seemed like he was about to break a sweat. Chris reached for the doorbell, but the door opened presenting a short plump woman.

"Hello, Mr. Redfield, I'm Emily. Mr. Wesker's expecting you all. This way." After looking at one another with bewildered looks, Chris, Jill, and Leon followed Emily through the door and up the stairway. Jill now followed Chris' stare to a picture on the wall. There were plenty of other pictures, but for some reason Chris' eyes were fixed on one of an Hispanic woman. What was so special about her?

Why would Wesker have pictures anyway? Dreading the moment of seeing Wesker didn't persuade time to slow its flow. Emily left them standing in front of a door and on the other side they heard… panting? The last things on their minds were guns -they wouldn't work against Wesker anyway- as Chris slowly opened the door.

"Oh my God," Jill whispered, staring straight ahead. Leon and Chris just stood there, mouths agape. There, right before them were Claire and Wesker who still hadn't noticed them. Wesker was on top of Claire, and Jill knew all to well what it looked like he was doing. There was no way in hell she could say it wasn't what it looked like.

About a minute later, Wesker collapsed on top of Claire, still not noticing Chris or Jill. Well, Claire didn't notice.

"Claire," said Chris, barely above a whisper. Hearing him, Claire sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest.

"Well, well, well. The whole gang's here," said Wesker smugly as he got up from the bed. Jill looked away, not wanting to see his bare body. Tempting as the chance may have been, Jill thought not looking was the noble thing to do.

When she heard his zipper being pulled up, she turned back and saw him but on his shades and a black shirt. Wesker's grin broadened at Jill's modesty. He didn't know why she turned away like that. Oh yes, Chris was there.

"Is she always this modest Chris?" asked Wesker. Everyone but Wesker seemed to be frozen. Suddenly, Jill ran to Claire and helped her get dressed.

"Come on Claire," she said softly.

"You son of a bitch!" yelled Leon, charging at Wesker. Chris only stared on at Claire, shock written on his face. Leon was now on the floor, nursing a broken wrist.

"Oh Claire, dear heart, you can't leave yet. After making love to you for the second time I thought we could talk. Wesker's gaze fell upon Jill, who trying to get a crying Claire to leave the room. "Leave her Valentine." Ignoring Wesker, Jill supported Claire. "I SAID LEAVE HER!"

"Run Claire!" yelled Jill. Chris ushered Claire out, only giving her a blank stare before he neared Wesker. One blink was all it took. Wesker was dashing to Jill, and landed a punch across her cheek, the impact caused her to hit the wall, leaving a crack. As Jill hit the floor, her sight faded, leaving her with the memory of Wesker's grin.

A/N: REVIEW! ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO! IT'S GONNA BE A LONG CHAPTER! SECRETS ARE COMING OUT, AND SOON PART II IS GONNA BE BORN!


	21. Finale

A/N: This is it. The end. It's 12 AM so it's technically Monday, but I meant to do it Sunday. Kinda busy. Well, let's do this. Wait, is anybody even awake to read this?

Disclaimer: For the last time for Part I, I must say that I truthfully don't own RE, because if I did, Wesker would be a nudist, and Ada would be dead at the bottom of the ocean strapped to an anchor.

"Jill!" cried Chris as his friend's eyes closed. Leon had staggered over to them and shook Jill with his good hand. Wesker stared at Chris smugly, enjoying the look on his face.

"How could you…" Chris trailed off. He was Albert Wesker, that's how. "My sister…"

"Oh Chris," said Wesker, painting on a sympathetic face. "Claire means quite a lot to me. You see, she knows my whole autobiography. Oh, and she met Monette. Claire was the last person my wife had a conversation with." For a moment, Chris saw a wave of sadness settle over Wesker, and confusion settled over Leon.

"You didn't deserve Monette!" yelled Chris, shock finally leaving his face. Chris was in the air. Just as he'd pissed Wesker off on Rockfort, he'd done it now.

"You can now ask her opinion," Wesker seethed. Just as his consciousness was about to fade, Chris heard Claire's voice.

"Put him down Wesker!" To Chris' surprise, Wesker looked to Claire. "Would Monette want you to hurt Chris? He was her friend wasn't he? Her _only_ friend in Raccoon City, in Colorado… in _America_. Plus, if you kill Chris, how will you find the disk?

"Well, dear heart," Wesker began, his voice not cold or harsh, "Dead men are notoriously easy to search."

"Maybe he doesn't have it!" Claire said quickly. Wesker's brow furrowed as Claire held up the disk. She'd gone to the van and learned both disks were fake. Chris had one, but Wesker had found that out after dropping him and patting him down. "Which one's real Wesker, huh?"

Claire bolted from the room, but Wesker already had her by the arm, squeezing tightly. "Give it to me!" he demanded, but he stopped shaking her. To him, it would seem logical for Chris to have it, seeing Wesker would believe the first was a fake anyway, a disk's a disk. "Is Chris' disk the real one?" he whispered into her ear, nibbling her earlobe. "If you lie, I'll come and kill them all, and you _will_ watch. Even if I have to fucking duct tape your eyes open _dear heart_."

"Yes Wesker, I promise you!" she cried. "I swear, I swear on my life."

_After giving myself to Wesker, it's not worth much anymore._

He smirked at this and Claire saw Chris and Leon holding Jill up as they came from Wesker's wing. They were alright. The sight of her friends was ripped from her as Wesker grabbed her head and brought his lips to hers. She pushed away, but was it because her brother and friends were there? 

"Just remember dear heart," he whispered, "Your bedroom will always be open for you… Or mine."

"Ugh, no!" she cried, grimacing. Turning to the others, he smiled. Jill was still unconscious; she was unmoving. Leon held his broken wrist close to him, pure hatred in his eyes, and Wesker knew it was because he'd gotten there first.

"Get out of my home," ordered the blonde, his smile disappearing. "It's no fun if Jill's asleep when I kill her. You won't get to see her suffer Chris." Claire rushed down the stairs to hold the door open for her friends, but before she left, Wesker had to get the last word in. "Just say the word Claire, I'll find you eventually, and when I do you'll be begging to come back. Friends don't always tell the truth."

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What did that mean? "Friends don't always tell the truth." Did Wesker know something she didn't? When didn't he? Claire sat in her old bed now, sort of wishing it was the kind she had at Wesker's old place.

Chris was taking care of Jill. Well, Rebecca had taken care of her, but Chris was watching her. Neither Leon or Chris said a word to her. Only Barry, Rebecca, and Billy spoke to her. Then there was a knocking at her door.

"Come in," she called, rewarding her with Rebecca's smiling face.

"How are you?" the brunette asked.

"Bad, I mean, you heard…"

"You did what you had to, to survive. It's not like you fell in love with Wesker, right?" Silence. Gut wrenching, heart breaking silence. "Did you?"

"Rebecca, I don't know. 'Where is Chris?' is all I thought. He just… disappeared completely. Wesker was a constant. I know what you're thinking right now."

"What am I thinking Claire?"

"Stockholm." Since Rebecca didn't speak, Claire assumed that it was a yes. "I dreamt about him last night. I dreamt that I was back in Raccoon City, and he found me, and he saved me." This was all so wrong on so many levels of wrongness. Claire actually missed Wesker?

Well, she missed his world. A world where there were no worries for her. Sherry was the only thing to worry about. No bills, no law, no worrying about whether Chris is alive or dead when she found a not on the refrigerator in the morning. So this was it?

Did Chris, Jill, and Leon hate her? Maybe they had the right to.

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Everyone was in the living room, Claire felt like she was at trial, for she sat in front of everyone, and she could see how it pained Chris to look at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, breaking the silence. "Jill, Leon, Chris, I'm so, so sorry! I never meant to get any of you hurt!" Claire cried. Unapologetic looks were on Leon and Chris' faces. Claire's tears had no effect on them.

"It's ok Claire," soothed Jill.

"No it's not Valentine," snapped Chris, his eyes still on Claire "Broken bones will heal, but you can't take back having sex with someone, if you can, those guys on Maury need to know about this."

"Chris," said Barry, it was a warning, but he knew Chris would speak to his sister however he wanted.

"No Barry, Chris is right," chimed in Leon. "We risk our necks to save you only to find you're 'Livin' La Vida Loca'."

"If I would have known if you were coming I wouldn't have slept with him!" Claire shouted. "I- I thought it would throw him off guard." Claire had told them everything that had happened, and Leon turned white every time Spencer's name.

"It couldn't throw Wesker off if the whole Dallas Cowboy's cheerleading team flashed him! It was still wrong," said Chris. He seemed hurt, but he wasn't the only one betrayed.

"And you not saying a word about Monette's existence wasn't wrong?" Claire demanded, standing up. "You knew about her, that she could have been leverage, but you never said a word." All eyes were on Chris now, but they'd soon be on Barry.

"Since we're all letting our skeletons out from the closet, Jill, you go." Jill was now in the spotlight and despite her head injury, there would be no sympathy.

"Barry, now's not the time," she said, looking away from the group.

"I believe it is Jill," he insisted, standing up. Feeling like what they were hiding was much worse, Claire sat down. "Jill, you know Joseph's dead because of us."

"Joseph?" Rebecca was shocked. What did Joseph have to do with this? "What are you guys talking about?

"Come on Jill. For Joseph," Barry said pleadingly.

"Alright!" Jill gave in and turned to Chris. His face was marred with disappointment, hurt, and the events that took place earlier. "Wesker had offered Barry and me jobs. Joseph too. He…" Tears sprang to Jill's eyes, and she could no longer speak.

"Wesker tried to strike a deal with us," Barry continued, "But we said no, we couldn't do it." Chris stood up from the couch and walked away a bit. Obviously, Wesker had won; Chris was hurt.

"Why are you telling me this? Now?" A queasy-looking Chris held his stomach, and it clearly hurt Jill that her actions made him sick. "BRAVO IS DEAD! ALL BUT REBECCA! THEY'RE DEAD! JOSEPH, WHO HAD JUST GOTTEN PROMOTED TO ALPHA WAS DEAD! DO YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND THAT?! I trusted you Jill, Barry, Claire."

Standing up again, Claire held her hands up in defense. "You knew about Monette! We all lied! Kept secrets! Who else?!" Leon looked away, fearing someone would gain telepathic powers. Billy fidgeted a bit until Rebecca gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Claire's right," said Rebecca, suddenly interrupting the argument. "In a few seconds, Wesker's gonna crack that encryption code, and his hard drive will fry, then we're all in danger again. So either we play the blame game, or we pull together!" No one said a word. Rebecca was right, and she enjoyed watching her words sink in.

"I'm sorry," said Chris, tears glistening in his eyes.

"Me too."

"Me too."

"Me too." Maybe now through understanding, they could figure out how to escape Wesker and his wrath, as long as they stuck together. Leon only saw this possible though, if he could get the real disk. Wesker was right, "Friends don't always tell the truth."

So, who's right? Who's wrong? Who's the snake in the garden? Who's our devil? Who's Adam, Eve?

Or maybe we're looking for someone to cast Claire as. Who would our Claire be? The snake? Eve? Or someone admired, most women wished to be? Is she the rule breaker we need, to erase the line between right and wrong?

A/N: Done… 2:05 AM. Took me so long because I was doing research for Part II in between typing this. "The Garden of Eden," where'd that name come from you may ask? Well if you didn't know the summary explains it all. Before that fateful day with the devil and Eve and that snake that the devil took the form of, there was no right or wrong, hence the saying "Ignorance is bliss."

They didn't know. Right now Claire's at this place in her mind where she doesn't understand anything anymore and with Wesker it's like he came from this race of beings who didn't eat from the tree and don't really have an understanding of the existence of wrong. I'm trying to cast these characters obviously, and when you see the title of the sequence you'll know who Claire is. I'll give explanations in the sequence and sayings and even scriptures. They have yet to have eaten the fruit and Claire is rebelling here, and at the moment doesn't even know what the word wrong means.

Expect twists, turns, and surprises. If there are typos forgive me, but it's late and some thing's that were italicized aren't because the freaking site un-did it so sorry. Be prepared cause I already have Chapter 1 written on paper.Hey, this summer HAS been dubbed the Summer of Sequels. Be good, love y'all!


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